The Wolf and the Mouse
by PinkNekoQueen
Summary: Virus and Trip had abused Aoba for so long, to such an extent he'd forgotten about everything but them, and now they were bored. So they decided to play a little game of Cat & Mouse. However, they never anticipated a wolf would show up. Mink mixed with Virus/Trip routes & made up stuff. Rated M for Yaoi & language. Mink/Aoba & slight Trip/Virus/Aoba?
1. The Mouse Under the Moon

I was awoken by the soft murmur of distant voices, carried through the chill night air. Abandoned by the warm embrace of sleep, I felt the cold harshness of reality crash upon me like freezing water, and I was suddenly very aware of how painfully hard the brick wall and concrete floor I curled up against was, and how the cold air seemed to pierce into my bones like shards of ice. With a shiver, I wrapped my arms around my knees, my breathe coming out in misty puffs between my chattering teeth.

Winter was gradually setting in, freezing over the brilliant colours of Autumn, and on some of the coldest nights, when a thin sheen of frost layered the ground, and the strong winds held a bitter chill that pierced right through me like a blade, I almost wished I was back with _them._ When the concrete was so cold and bruising on my body, and I couldn't sleep because of the icy chills running through my veins, I was reminded of the comfort of those large beds, even when I was being forced against them, the soft sheets against my back, my head sinking into the pillows while my body was being violated.

But no. I escaped. I got away. Anything was better than that, no matter how painful it was, no matter what hardships I had to endure. I would never go back.

The voices grew louder now, and I felt slight alarm flutter in my chest. I prayed it was just some drunken party goers on their way home, that they would walk straight past this narrow, filthy alley and I could continue to hide in the shadows, undisturbed. Footsteps echoed through the dark, one...no two sets. They seemed to stop at the mouth of the alleyway, their voices echoing between the buildings.

"I think it's empty." one voice rung out from the darkness, deep and masculine.

"Let's check." came a hoarse reply. My stomach clenched with fear, and my heart began racing in my chest.

My body was drained and weak from fatigue and hunger, I could barely muster the strength to stand up, so if they decided to attack me when they found me, fighting was undoubtedly out of the question, and on top of that I had began to panic. I could feel it build in me, the alarm running through my nerves, the racing of my heart as it echoed in my ears, the sweat soaking my brow, trickling down my face in beads.

A shadow loomed above me, and I peered up from under my hood. Steely blue eyes stared down at me, as cold and sharp as the edge of a blade. "This is our spot now." a voice spat. I could almost feel it pierce into me.

I only nodded, not trusting my self to speak. There was nothing I could do, moving was a hassle, but getting caught up in a fight was ten times worse. I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling with fear beneath me. I brushed by the guy who'd addressed me, the taller of the two. I could feel the seconds one's gaze eating into me, like pressure against my skin, and when I walked by he suddenly called me to a halt.

"Wait." he said, his voice rusty, as though his throat was dry. "Can you show me your face?"

I froze on the spot, fear creeping into the pit of my stomach. " W-Why?" I asked nervously, my voice shaking slightly as I turned to face him. It probably wasn't a smart move, but I was too scared out of my wits to think straight.

His dark eyes regarded me with curiosity, and he slightly cocked his head to the side with a bird like motion. Then he suddenly lunged forward, and grabbed my hoodie by the collar. He was small and slender, much like myself, but he had a surprising amount of strength. He reached out for my hood, and pushed it back, exposing my face to the cold night air. His eyes seemed to travel up and down my body for a moment, and I suppressed a shudder, easily guessing what was going through his mind right now.

His eyes met mine, and he pulled at a strand of my long blue hair, running his fingers through it. "You look just like a girl. Maybe we can pretend for a night." he said, his voice low, his lips curling into a grin. I didn't want to be touched by those filthy hands, so I inadvertently shook my head in a panic. I felt him grab me, and I suppressed a shocked cry of terror. In one swift motion, that left me feeling sick and disorientated, he'd shoved me face first against the wall and pinned my hands behind my back, bending my arms painfully. "It wasn't a question." he said, his voice quietly sinister in my ear, his warm breathe fanning the side of my face. Something cold touched my cheek, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a sliver of silver, the gleam of a thin blade. My chest tightened with fear, and I couldn't take my eyes off of the blade in the corner of my vision. "If you try and escape, I might just ruin that pretty face of yours." he said with bitter amusement.

My heart was suddenly seized with terror, and I could feel the alarm running through my nerves like lightening, every hair on my body prickling, cold fingers running down my spine. It felt like I was back there again, those hands were on my body, that chain was around my neck with choking tightness, so cold, like ice against my skin. The terror was so vivid and raw that when it gripped me, I felt like I couldn't breathe. Every cell in my body screamed at me to run, and before I knew what I was doing, I frantically fought against his tight grip, and forgetting the knife that was held to my face I threw my head back blindly, hoping it would collide with his. Something hard hit my skull, there was a bone jarring crack followed by a short cry of pain. At the same time, a sharp pain sliced across my cheek, and I felt warm blood well up from the cut.

The painful grip loosened from around my wrists, and I yanked myself free, bolting for the end of the alley. A large silhouette appeared before me, blocking my path, and something was being swung at me, gleaming silver in the pale moonlight. A long thin metal bar, hooked around at the end, like the deadly claws of an animal flew toward my face. I just managed to duck away at the last second, and there was a horrible noise of bricks shattering above me, dust and debris raining down upon me as the crowbar crashed into the wall. I didn't have time to shield myself from the falling rubble, because he was upon me again in seconds, and some of it crashed upon my head, the finer pieces clinging to my hair. I choked a little on the dust, but I managed to recover quickly. Despite the tired aches and pains that lingered in my body, I found strength rush through me, and the sharp coldness of battle suddenly washed over me, and the fire ablaze in my veins helped me focus on my surroundings.

I was small, and I was fast. I saw the chance to maneuver by him, and I took it, darting past him as his arm was raised, crow bar in hand to strike at me again. I had just made it to the edge of the alley, I was almost free, when a sharp pain pierced my side, so intense my breathe caught in my lungs. At the same time, a hand tugged at my hood, and the collar of my jumper was chafing against my throat, choking me. The hoodie was large, and baggy, and somehow with trembling fingers I managed to undo the zip and slip out of it, making my escape.

Everything after that was a blur. I remember feeling a sense of dim shock wash over me, of running through darkness so intense I could barely see, of branches reaching out like black claws against the night sky, scraping at my face, my body, a sharp pain running through my leg, like the crack of a whip, the world turning upside down. The moon was so large and pale, like a silver disc sailing across the night sky, followed by whispy clouds and twinkling stars. My entire body felt empty and numb, and the only thing I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears, accompanied by the racing of my heart. Something cold and white fell on my face, and I closed my eyes, and gradually the world went dark, and everything fading into silence.

 _"You're ours Aoba."_

 _"We're your biggest fans."_

 _"We love you so much, Aoba."_

 _Those words, repeated over and over like a broken record. I was in a dark room, cold chains wrapped around my arms and legs, biting into my skin like the teeth of a predator sinking into its prey. I couldn't see anything, something was wrapped tightly around my head, covering my eyes. Those hands were touching my body. At first it was gentle, light caresses over my skin, but suddenly it was painful. They were grabbing me roughly, clawing at me, their finger nails digging into me with so much force I felt my skin slice. Fear bunched up in my chest, choking me, and I was bound with terror. But I couldn't cry out, something wet was scrunched up in my mouth, tasting of bitter wine that soaked into my tongue, making it hard to breathe. The first slice of the blade across my skin was an agonising pain, sharp and intense. The second was even worse, and then the third, the fourth... I wanted to scream, to beg him to stop. It was too painful. The backs of my eyes were being painted red, each slow cut trailing across my skin like fire. He did it just for fun. They both did it all just for fun. It could have been the one hundredth cut, or the one thousandth, but by then it was just cold and numb. I couldn't feel the pain anymore. I could no longer feel anything. I had become numb, an empty shell of the person I once was, as cold and unfeeling as a china doll. I stared at my pale face in the mirror, my reflection looking back at me with despair in its eyes. I couldn't believe that was me. My face was so sunken, so hollow so pale, my cheekbones jutted out, odd and angular, and grey crescent moons had formed under my eyes, which used to be such a vibrant hazel, but were now dull and lifeless, the colour of muddy water. The chain around my neck gleamed in the reflection, large and ugly, a heavy metal confinement that choked me._

 _Suddenly a huge crack formed across the mirror, cutting my face in half. Then another, and another, until it was shattered with spidery cracks as though it had been smashed with a hammer, and I was staring at the reflection of an unfamiliar face, like an abstract Picasso portrait, everything seemed to be in the wrong place. I reached up, and gently touched my cheek, and when I pulled my hand away, fine pale powdery dust was scattered on my fingers. I brushed them against my face again, and this time there was a small chunk of something in my hands, with the delicacy of glass, and the fine milky colour of chalk. Then it began falling from my face in chunks, and I could feel it. I could feel my skin break, as though cut with knives, and the hard substance falling away and shattering on the floor. I looked at the mirror once more, and where my left eye should have been, there was a dark empty space, and more and more of my face was falling away in hard chunks, leaving behind only empty blackness until there was nothing left._

 _It wasn't the mirror that had been shattering. It was me._

I awoke with a start, the vivid horror of the nightmare already fading from my mind. Gradually I peeled my eyes open, a dull ache pounding through my heavy head. The first thing I noticed was an orange light through my blurred vision, dancing in front of me like it was alive. At first I thought I was dead, but then a sharp pain stabbed through my side, making me feel nauseous, and my eyes bolted open, and the sight of an unfamiliar room gradually swam into view. A warm blanket had been placed over me, and my head was against something furry and soft, although it felt so heavy it was like it had been glued there. It hurt to look around, every slight movement sending a fresh wave of pain through my body, but I managed to crane my neck enough to see that the dancing orange light was actually a fire, leaping in a fire place on the opposite side of the room, and I was in what could have been a cabin, lying on a soft sofa. Around me it was all wooden walls and shelves, decorated with finely carved sculptures, the feathers of a dream catcher dancing in the corner of my eyes.

Someone had brought me here. The first thing that raced through my mind was that they had found me, had dragged me back to that awful place to do awful things to me again. But this place was completely different, it had a more rustic and homely atmosphere to it. It belonged to someone else. But I didn't know if they were friendly or not, and I didn't intend to stay long enough to find out. It took a great deal of effort to sit myself up, my joints creaking with an ache, my muscles screaming in protest, but eventually I managed to, and sweating with effort, I leaned back against the sofa. I noticed something soft and tight wrapped around my body. Bandages, beneath my clothes. One bound around my ankle, the other stretched over my right side. Someone had tended to my wounds as well, it seemed.

After resting a few moments to catch my breathe, I tried to stand up, and instantly a sharp pain jolted up my leg, and I cried out, my ankle giving way beneath me. I crashed to the ground with a thud, and then winced, both at the pain and the noise I'd made. Surely if someone was here they would have heard, and would be coming to investigate. I tried to crawl along the floor, but my limp leg dragging along behind me made it a slow, agonizing process.

I heard footsteps behind me, and froze, my blood turning to ice as a shadow seemed to block out all the light in the world. "Oi." a low deep voice rung out from above. "You should be resting."

I was suddenly lifted, and found myself back on the sofa, staring into gold eyes, with a similar radiance to the setting sun. A faint smell of cinnanom wafted up, brushing against my nose, but was instantly chased away by the iron scent of blood. I felt something sickly warm spread out under my shirt, and glanced down to see a deep red stain, spreading out like dye over the light material. "I'm bleeding." I muttered absently.

"That's why you need to rest." the man replied, sounding a little exasperated. I looked up at him now, and was a taken aback. He was really tall, and broad, probably hiding a muscular body under his tan shirt and plain jeans. Long brown hair fell over his shoulders with two feathered brades, fading to auburn pink at the tips, and once again I was captivated by those golden honey coloured eyes. They looked so familiar, as though I'd seen them before in a dream. My mind suddenly felt distant, overtaken by the surreal obscurity of deja-vu for a moment.

"I'll get more bandages." he muttered flatly, breaking my numb, trance like state.

"Why bother helping me?" I asked, without really thinking. Thinking seemed so hard right now, my mind was slow and sluggish, as though it was filled slush, and I just wanted to sleep.

He stopped mid stride, and turned to me. "Aoba..." he said slowly.

I felt a jolt run through me, my nerves twisting uneasily. "How do you know my name?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

"Who are you!?" I demanded, feeling frustrated at my ignorance, like I was being kept in the dark about some important secret.

He sighed deeply. "If you really don't remember me, that's probably for the best." There was sorrow written on his face, reflected in those warm eyes.

Panic and confusion welled up in me. I'd never seen this man before. Had I?

But then again...all I could remember was those two, their pale blonde hair and striking blue eyes, the way they touched me and held me, the things they did to me. I couldn't remember anyone else, but there'd always been a nagging feeling at the back of my mind, festering since I'd escaped, that there had been others before, other people I couldn't remember anymore. Their faces and names washed from my mind, drowned out in the torture of pleasure and pain. But I'd never had to think about it, since I assumed I was never going to see any of them ever again.

Maybe once I had dreamed of going home, to return to my old life. It seemed like a vaguely familiar idea, something I may have once thought about. But all those people were now strangers, and I was too broken to fit in with normal society now.

Could he be one of those people? Someone from my old life?

I stared at him, really stared. I studied his face, the tan of his skin, the curve of his strong jaw, his heavy brow creased above his golden eyes, his high cheekbones, partly hidden behind loose strands of hair, his long aquiline nose, his wide mouth and thin lips. His looks were sort of striking, an intense, defined face, with the sort of handsome mature appeal of an older guy, if you were into that. Surely I would have remembered someone so impressive? I tried so hard to recall, to force the pieces into place, to will the memories to return. But it was no use. There was nothing but obscured darkness before Virus and Trip.

"How much have you forgotten?" he asked, his gaze meeting mine.

I shook my head. "I don't know. Do you really know me?" I asked. I was of course still wary, but something about him made me want to trust him. It was those eyes, as soon as I'd saw them I'd had a strong sense of deja-vu.

His gaze dropped. "If you remembered, you would hate me."

Those words, spoken with so much self loathing and despair, sent chills through me. Just who was this man?

"Will you at least tell me your name?" I asked. Since he knew mine, I felt it was only fair. And maybe it would help spark some memory within my head.

"Mink." he replied.


	2. Sunset and Sunrise

_The earsplitting sound of explosions, as loud as thunder cracking through the sky, the bitter smell of smoke burning his nostrils like acid, choking all the air from his lungs. The falling rubble, crashing to the floor around in him in chunks with such force the ground seemed to shake as though the earth was quaking, the hot blaze of the inferno closing in on him, boiling him in his jacket, burning down his throat. None of it mattered to him at all. The only thing that he cared for was Aoba. He couldn't find Aoba. He desperately needed to find Aoba. He couldn't leave without Aoba._

Mink was out later than usual, clearing his head with the stinging chill of cold fresh air, after a fitful sleep filled with nightmares. It was so that cold he could see his breathe, feel the chill set into his bones like ice. The first flakes of snow this winter had began falling, initially in a fine and steady sprinkle, dusting the forest floor like sugar, but soon in heavy flurries of white feathers, whipping into his skin mercilessly, forcing him to hurry back to the shelter of his home. He strode with determination, his broad shoulders hunched into the collar of his jacket to defend against the heavy snow. As he walked, he saw something, just from the corner of his eye, bright blue against the thin white blanket of that hid the forest floor.

He thought about leaving it alone, but gave into curiosity and investigated. With each step he took closer, trudging through the snowfall, leaving footprints with his heavy boots, the figure seemed to take shape. A small, slender man, with long blue hair scattered around his face in a disheveled mess, lying face up as white flakes settled on his body. At first he thought it was someone else, lying unconscious on the white covered earth. Someone else with distinctive blue hair and skin as pale as winter. Or maybe it was his imagination, playing a cruel joke on him, his dread and guilt coming back to haunt him after all this time. He closed his eyes tightly, and saw Aoba's crying face, engraved into his memory like a scar that would never heal.

He opened his eyes. The man was still lying there, only now his eyes had fluttered open, and he was staring with an empty gaze up at the sky. Blood seeped into the snow around him, dying the crystal white blanket a deep crimson and spreading out slowly. It seemed to be pouring from a wound on his side, soaking through his thin blue shirt. There was an angry red slash across his cheek, and his ankle, beneath his snow powdered jeans was bent in an odd shape. His uncovered fingers were slightly blue around the tips with the onset of frostbite, but it didn't look too bad, he couldn't have been lying there long. He was extremely still though, appearing limp and lifeless like a corpse.

Mink kneeled down and lightly pressed his fingers to the man's pulse point, thinking that he may have died. The man who he could not bear to call by his name, lest he was dreaming, so he was simply just a man lying in the snow like a fallen angel. His skin was so cold, like it was made of ice itself, and there was a weak pulse, beating subtly beneath where his fingers touched. He still breathed in small shallow breathes, faint puffs of white in the air, his chest rising and falling shakily, and his body slightly trembled as he fussed under the touch. Despite the cold, Mink removed his own heavy jacket and wrapped it around him as he lifted him. Instantly his exposed arms broke out in goose flesh, feeling as though needles of ice pierced every pour. He stirred a little in Mink's hold, letting out a small confused groan of pain.

"Why?" he asked, his voice quiet and filled with terror, then his head went limp against Mink's shoulder, and he closed his eyes. But there was no mistaking that voice. As weak as it had come out, it was the same voice that permanently took residence in the back of his mind, that resounded through his heart every day like wish or a prayer, reminding him that he had to live. Aoba's voice. He had found Aoba. He hurried back to his cabin, fighting against the wind that cut through him like a blade, and the snow that needled into his skin.

 _He heard a sudden cry, turned to see that long blue hair, streaked with orange as it reflected in the light of the blazing inferno. His pale face was stained with tears and ash, his light hazel eyes were red rimmed and shining. Aoba. He tried to call out his name, but the smoke was too thick, the swirling tendrils poured into his throat like fire, instantly drying it out, and he choked out the name instead, feeling like he'd swallowed a branch of thorns. Aoba's lips were moving, he was calling out to Mink. But he couldn't hear him over the roar of the crackling flames._

Mink opened his eyes gradually from his half asleep state, his heart racing a little. He looked over at the blue haired man lying asleep on the sofa, from where he sat on the arm rest. Aoba was still there. It wasn't a dream. It was real. Treating his wounds while he lay unconscious last night had been real. Cleaning and covering that horrible slash just below his right rib cage, most likely inflicted by a knife, binding his broken ankle, which was horribly swollen around the joint, the skin red and bruised, and wiping the blood from the small cut on his face, it had all happened. Even that brief conversation they'd had was real, after the idiot had awoken in a confusion and attempted to escape by dragging himself across the floor. That had been real too, not some twisted dream.

The fire still burned slightly in the fireplace opposite them, and the unsteady orange embers sent warm shadows dancing across his pale sweat glistened face, flame coloured streaks flickering against his blue hair. His lips were still slightly blue around the edges, the dark circles under his eyes accentuated by the shadow his lashes cast over his delicate cheekbones, more prominent on his face than Mink remembered. He'd lost a bit of weight it seemed. He was breathing steadily, but every now and then he'd let out a small pained groan, or shiver slightly and stir under the sheets. He was thin and frail and sickly, wounded and hurting, and it made Mink yearn to reach out and stroke his hair in a comforting manner, to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until he was better. This sort of affection was strange and alien to him, something that he'd removed from his heart like cutting away at a chord, and he'd never had any love for anyone or anything until he'd met Aoba.

He almost extended his hand, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. But he recoiled at the last moment, curling his fingers back, dropping it to his side once more. He couldn't touch Aoba like that. After everything he'd done, he had no right.

Aoba let out a soft whimper, and shivered, pulling the blankets up to his chin, and then moments later reached out a hand, as though searching for something to comfort him. His fingers brushed Mink's knee, latching tightly onto the material of his jeans, like a baby blindly searching for a mother's comfort. "Hold my hand Granny. I'm scared." Aoba murmured in his sleep, his voice thin with fear. Mink placed his hand over Aoba's, and instantly thin fingers wrapped around his. His hand was so small that Mink felt more like he was clutching a poorly child's rather than a man's. Aoba had always been small, at least to Mink anyway, but now it was like he was withering away to nothing. He held that tiny hand tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Aoba had called out for his Grandma, even if he was dreaming or delusional, did it mean he had remembered something?

* * *

 _They were holding me down against the bed, Trip's hands pressed into my shoulders from behind me, as heavy as iron weights, and Virus between my legs, forcefully prying them open, his hands already fumbling with my jeans. I'd given up fighting back, realising how futile it was, that I'd only face horrific punishment and gain nothing from resisting or disobeying them. Cold horror slid to the bottom of my heart. I feared them._

 _"We love you, Aoba." Trip leaned down and whispered into my ear, his warm breathe hot against the side of my face. I suppressed a shiver. They usually took turns with me, but when they were together it was somehow scarier. The air around them became colder and sharper than usual, and the desire and lust became tinted with a dark possessiveness._

 _Virus thrust into me, and I jumped, letting out a choked cry. There was amusement in his cold eyes and I could feel his gaze travel over my body. I hadn't even noticed him remove the clothes from my lower half, and he hadn't prepared me at all. I was too scared to think, and my body instantly reacted, my dick going stiff, even though I didn't want to feel this way, pleasure still began thrumming through me, pooling between my legs like smoldering heat._

 _I was scared. The whole world around me seemed to go dark with terror, and I was deathly afraid. I wanted someone to save me, a hand to reach out for, to hold onto and pull me out of the darkness._

 _Granny. Granny would save me, just like she always did._

I jolted awake. The first thing I felt was warmth, even before my other senses had came into focus. The dream still lingered on the edges of my memory, and I recalled most of what it was about. Just like all the others, it involved Virus and Trip, my memories of their abuse, but something felt different this time, like there was something else I dreamed of too. I tried hard to pull it to the front of my mind, everything else around me forgotten, but it was already gone, like dust scattered in the wind. I used to hate the feeling of waking from a dream that was already slipping from my mind, and trying but being unable to recall it. Now I was grateful for such a luxury, because my nightmares were worse than Hell.

"Oi." a voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I craned me neck back, looking up to see that guy perched on the arm rest of the sofa. His name was Mink if I recalled correctly. "Are you going to let go now?" he asked, lifting and eyebrow. For a moment I had no idea what he was referring to, but then through the haze of my groggy mind, I finally realised my arm was pulled up behind my head and I felt something warm and sweaty in my hand. I'd been clutching onto his fingers. I pulled my hand away and tucked it under the sheets, a small cry of embarrassment escaping my lips, my face heating up as I silently cursed myself. Why were we practically holding hands? Had I reached out for him in my sleep, like a silly little child?

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"It's fine." he replied remotely. Then he got up and stalked off, leaving the room. I guess I must have really pissed him off.

An image flashed into my mind, something suddenly floating up to the surface from the darkest depths. Cold blue eyes, with a tinge of green, staring down at me from an intense scowling face. Dark brown dreadlocks, tanned skin, a pink headband, a hand bunched into my shirt collar. The tangy taste of blood on my lips, a dull ache pounding through my body. The memory of anger boiling in my blood and fear lancing through my heart.

As suddenly as the vivid vision came, it was gone and my mind was unable to grab back onto the image, to recall any more, just like the barely remembered dreams. I frowned, confusion and frustration swirling in my chest like a snowstorm. My mind felt so broken, like part of it was missing, and I just wanted those pieces to come back together, to fall into place. I'd never worried about it before because I'd never had the luxury to dwell on such things, but if he really was someone from my hidden past, now was my chance to find out about myself.

I knew there was something there, beneath the darkness, and I yearned to find out what it was.

I looked around the room I was in, pushing myself with effort into a sitting position. My body felt stiff, and all my joints were heavy with aches and pains, especially my right ankle, which throbbed constantly, sending sharp pains lancing up my leg. My vision wavered a little at first, but eventually became focused. I was looking at a small cabin room, dyed with the orange glow of sunlight streaming through a small window, and the burning remains of a fire, now just embers and black ash. The walls around me were just plain wooden paneling, and the decor was very simplistic and minimal, a feathered dream catcher dangling by a door behind me, and in front of me a small coffee table with an empty surface. There were a few shelves, with intricate wooding carvings of animals on them, a horse, a bull, a dog. I didn't know how many other rooms there were, how large or small this place was. All I could see from my position was one door slightly behind me to my right, and then the front door to my left, a window next to it. I looked out of the window, but couldn't see anything, the morning sunlight so intense it was as though the glass had been painted orange.

It must have been a beautiful sunrise. I hadn't got to admire something like that in so long, I almost wanted to walk up to the window and gaze out. But as soon as I put any weight on my feet, daggers of pain shot into my right leg, so I couldn't move.

Mink returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup, and the sharp smell of coffee filled the air. He handed it to me, and I slowly reached out with weak arms and accepted it with a hesitant smile. It smelled good, the scent wafting up from the hot liquid somehow comforting and familiar. I couldn't remember the last time I had a cup of coffee. I could barely remember what it tasted like, and when I took my first tentative sip, it burned a little, but mostly it tasted bitter, with a slight hint of sugar and milk, and it swirled down my throat, seeming to thaw the ice from inside of my body as it settled in my stomach.

Then a sudden thought occurred to me, and I stopped drinking. Was this safe to drink? What if he wasn't actually friendly, what if he'd done something to it, put something in it? Mink glanced at me. "What's wrong?" he asked. For a moment I imagined his eyes flashing blue.

I'd only drank a little bit. I'd be okay if he was up to something, surely?

"It's just coffee." he said, with a heavy sigh and an eye roll.

I stared in stunned silence. Had he guessed what I was thinking? Mink let out a small grunt, sounding a little frustrated. "You're not like before." he said deliberately.

If he really knew me, could I get information about my past from him?

I hesitated for a moment, before asking. "What was I like, then?"

He regarded me thoughtfully, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. "Less scrawny." he finally said.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Seriously..." I muttered.

The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was going to smile, but in a moment it was gone, and his lips were set straight once more.

"You were a lot of trouble." he said, not without affection, and then he closed his mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Finish your damn coffee."

I was really cold, and couldn't stop shivering, as though ice had settled on my skin, but the coffee helped so I decided to comply. If he was going to hurt me, wouldn't he have just done it while I was out cold anyway? I didn't really care anymore. I felt tired, an overwhelming exhaustion that drained both mind and body to the extent I felt hollow. After over a year of torture and abuse at the hands of two men I once considered good friends, and almost a month on the cold, dark terrifying streets of an unfamiliar country, I was just happy for something warm to drink and somewhere warm to stay.

Mink's eyes seemed to flicker to me every now and then, and when I caught his gaze it seemed there were a thousand questions hidden beneath the surface. "What?" I asked, feeling a little unsettled.

"Where have you been?" his question was more of a demand, and I was taken aback by his tone.

"What do you mean?"

"For over a year. I thought you were dead."

I felt a little shocked by that statement. His voice was steady with no hint of emotion, but there was a repressed air of pain and sadness about him, something I could sense rather than see. Had I been someone he cared for? Had I really lived a life so dangerous, that others believed me to be dead, or was it an accident? So many questions filled my mind, racing through my head one after the other.

I thought about answering his first, though. I took a deep breathe, trying to still my trembling nerves. I could almost feel the colour draining from my face. Should I tell him about Virus and Trip? How much should I say? Would he help me if I told him? No. I couldn't. I didn't know him well enough, I didn't know what relationship I had with him before, and I couldn't really trust him. It was something agonizing and terrifying to think of, something that lingered in my darkest nightmares and still had me waking up in the night, drowning in terror. How could I share something so deep and dark and horrifying with a man I didn't know? I didn't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it to others. Why couldn't those memories have been erased instead?

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." he said slowly.

I didn't even realise how tightly my fingers were clutching the sheets until he leaned down and carefully brushed a hand over mine. For a brief moment, I felt a flash of warmth run through my body, and then it was gone and he was stalking out the front door, a heavy jacket slung over his shoulder. Since I escaped, if other people approached me or tried to touch me, it made me feel really uneasy or afraid, and I'd shy away, but with him it was different.

"I'm going to get some stuff." he mumbled as he left, shutting the door behind him.

I didn't hear the sound of keys jangling in the lock. He hadn't locked me in. That meant he wasn't trying to detain me here, to keep me imprisoned like an animal in a cage. I was free to leave whenever I wanted. I thought about it, of slipping away while he was out, but what use would that be? It was freezing out there, and my ankle was so sore I couldn't even walk. I suspected it was probably broken, and the intense pain seemed to reassure me of that, but I couldn't really remember what had happened. It was all a blur of coldness and darkness, of panic and pain.

* * *

Mink stood outside, leaning against the door and taking deep breathes. He closed his eyes tightly, pushing his chin into the warm fur colour of his coat.

 _He was almost there. He'd almost got to him, and then above then there was an awful cracking noise, and the ceiling began to break into pieces, caving in on itself. For a moment the whole world seemed to stand still, like he was staring at a painting before him instead of reality. Aoba extended an arm toward him, his long slender fingers splayed out in front of him. Mink reached out too, but it was too late. The last thing he saw was Aoba's eyes, wide with fear, his long blue hair whirling around his face like it was caught in a strong wind, his mouth open, his lips forming words that couldn't be heard. That image burned itself into his mind. And then it had fallen between them, a wall of rubble that piled up creating a blockade, and they were separated from each other._

 _He'd clawed at it until his hands were sore and bloody, until his knuckles were scraped to the bone, ignoring as the flames closed in and more burning chunks fell around him, like meteorites crashing from the Heavens to the Earth. He'd pulled away piece after piece, one hundred, one thousand, he didn't know anymore, he just kept digging and digging through the debris, praying he could get to Aoba, each moment they were apart carving dark despair into his heart. The smoke was so thick he could barely breathe, and he could feel the heat of the fire closing in, making him feel boiling and sweaty in his skin. If he stayed, he was going to die. And Aoba had told him to live._

He opened his eyes, looking at the trees before him, outlined by the burning orange sunrise as it shone through like fire, framed glistening white with snow. The ground beneath him was covered too, almost half a foot of it, but the air now was cold and still and silent, save for the distant chirping of birds. He hated snow, it always built up and got in the way, making simple tasks difficult and tedious, making the air freeze and the plants wither and die. But this morning, he couldn't deny it was beautiful, in all its cold white purity, a clean blanket over the Earth, that wiped away all the dirt on the ground. He took a deep breathe, but this time it could not clear his head, for Aoba filled his thoughts, seeping to every corner of his mind like a sponge soaking up water.

Mink headed in the direction of the town. It was less than a mile, a fifteen minute walk. He suspected Aoba would be hungry, so he needed to go pick up something nice for breakfast.


	3. Frustration and Shame

Virus reclined back into the soft black pillows of his bed, his hand curled delicately around a large glass of wine. He took a sip, feeling it seep down his throat with a subtle burn. The taste seemed more bitter than usual. "Maybe we shouldn't have let him escape." He said to Trip, who was slumped on the end of the bed, running his hands over Welter's fur, a gargantuan lion type allmate, with a thick coat so dark it was as though it had been crafted from a starless night sky. Then again, his Hersha was the same shade. Virus regarded them with scorn. No wonder Aoba feared the beast, even he was loathe to have it in his own bedroom.

"We'll find him again." Trip said, turning to Virus with a lethal smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, I know." Virus replied. "But it's been over a month. I'm getting bored."

Trip's smile turned razor sharp, and suddenly he was crawling up the bed. "I can take care of that." he said, his voice low, his eyes gleaming sharply. Virus finished drinking his wine, and placed the empty glass on the bedside table next to the bottle. "I'm sure you can." he said with a bitter smile.

Trip slid between Virus's legs, pinning him down by the shoulders. He ran his tongue across the tender skin of his throat, lightly sucking with his lips before biting down harshly with just enough force to draw blood. The other man barely flinched, and instead felt himself getting aroused at the sharp pain, a faint fire pooling between his legs. Trip ran his tongue along the tender skin around wound, not letting one trickle of blood go to waste.

Then he kissed Virus, prying his lips open, forcing his tongue into explore every inch of his mouth. Instantly the iron taste of his own blood seeped into every corner. Trips tongue roughly worked over his, it wasn't a pleasurable kiss at all. Not like kissing Aoba. Virus eventually turned away with an agitated sigh. "Tomorrow." he said firmly, looking out with an icy glare from behind his glasses.

"Fine." Trip replied. "We'll begin our search tomorrow. If he's even still alive, that is."

"If he's dead, I will kill you." Virus spat, glaring up at him with eyes as cold and angry as an ocean storm.

* * *

I was sitting up half asleep on the sofa, the blankets I'd slept enveloping me in a soft warm cover, when I heard the sound of the front door click and swing open, rousing me from my dozing state. For a moment I'd forgotten where I was, and the sight of an unfamiliar room made my heart flutter with panic. But then I saw Mink at the doorway, and slowly my memories returned, as though they were floating up from the bottom of a dark lake. He didn't even spare me a glance as he walked past in a hurry, toward some other room behind me. My body still ached all over, but the coldness that had numbed my skin the night before was gone, and my joints felt less stiff and sore. Sharp pain still pulsed through my side though, although I could barely remember what happened, there was a long gash across my side, from the back to the front, just beneath my rib cage, and every time I moved a fresh surge of pain racked through my body like fire.

For some strange reason, I felt a fuzzy anxiousness cloud my head and it wouldn't go away. I felt uncomfortable, like I wasn't in the right place, and every nerve inside me was screaming that it was wrong. My stomach twisted with uneasiness, which made sense considering I was in a stranger's home. Well to me, he was a stranger, but apparently he knew me. It was all extremely confusing, I couldn't wrap my head around it, and every waking moment put me on edge. But it was better than being on the streets. It wasn't just uncomfortable, every night was filled with darkness terror, fear that I wouldn't see the next day, that I'd freeze or get murdered or face some horrible fate. I barely slept or ate at all, and for the first week I thought it was going to drive me mad, push me over the edge of insanity. But then I realised that I'm stronger than that, that I'd survived torture much worse than being homeless, and to die would be a fate much more desirable than to return to those days anyway.

I didn't even hear Mink pull up a chair and sit across from me. I was so lost in thought that I didn't register his presence until the smell of something sweet hit my nose and I looked up. He had wordlessly slid a plate of something across the table toward me, but he seemed to be intently avoiding my gaze, as though I was some hideous creature he couldn't bare to look at. "Eat." he said. His voice didn't seem warm or cold, just blunt and commanding, and I felt somewhat compelled to comply.

I glanced at the plate, on which sat what appeared to be a pancake drizzled in syrup, and the hollow sickness that filled my stomach me reminded me that I hadn't eaten in almost two days. I stared at it longingly. "I-is this really okay?" I asked nervously.

He looked up at me with a frown. "Just eat." he muttered impatiently. The look in his eyes told me I should probably just eat it.

I scoffed the pancake down, not really bothering to use the fork he'd set down for me. It was sweet and soft, and even though it was just a simple pancake, to me it was the most luxurious meal imaginable right now. I felt like I probably looked like some sort of wild savage who'd never been taught any table manners, but I didn't care. I was starving, and as soon as I'd taken one bite nothing else mattered but to fill my stomach, because I still lived in fear of not knowing when I'd eat again. It was a dark horror that settled inside me from being starved more than once. But that was something from before I'd cast myself to the streets. Back when I was with them, sometimes they let me eat, and sometimes they didn't. When they'd make me go days without food, I'd reduce myself to begging, terrified that I was going to die of starvation.

Aware of Mink's gaze on me, I licked the syrup that coated my fingers. He didn't seem repulsed or disapproving at the way I'd wolfed down the food. To my surprise I thought his expression hinted amusement before his gaze became hard and serious.

"You still hungry?" he asked. I thought about it for a moment then nodded. It was filling, but there was just this voice in the back of my head telling me I had to eat more, to eat as much as I could while I could, because I didn't know when I'd go hungry again. Which was true. I had no idea how long I'd be welcomed here for. Mink didn't seem heartless enough to toss me out with a broken ankle, but once it healed what reason would I have to stay here?

I devoured a few more pancakes.

It wasn't until a while after that he began asking me questions about my past. He leaned over the table, his warm coloured eyes studying me intently as I shrunk back against the sofa. "Do you remember your Gran?" he asked.

The idea of a grandmother was familiar, but I couldn't picture a face in my head of my own. It was frustrating, really. Like there was a block in my mind, a wall of concrete separating my past from my present.

"Koujaku?" he said. It was familiar word, something I could imagine saying.

"Koujaku." I repeated. The word came from my lips so naturally, as though it was something I'd said a thousand times, yet it held no meaning in my mind whatsoever. "What's that?"

"He was your best friend." Mink said.

I frowned, trying to remember what it was like to have friends. People around you. People who were helpful, who you could talk to and rely on, hang out with. Something like that, right? I had no memories of such a thing, but yet again the concept was familiar.

"Were we friends?" I asked. It was a little odd, considering he was probably more than ten years my senior, but it wasn't unimaginable that we could have been friends once.

"Something like that." he muttered. "Anyway, what about Mizuki?" he abruptly changed the subject, looking away from me.

I found it odd, but didn't bother to question his actions. It must be hard for him having me here, when he has memories of me that we no longer share, because I'd forgotten all about him. That would put anyone at odds.

"Mizuki?" I asked. That sounded like a name. A deep laughter chimed in my head for a moment, but as quickly as it had come it was gone, like an illusion fading away. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to think, trying to grab onto that though, but it was like blindly reaching for one drop of water in a swirling ocean of darkness.

"Did you remember anything?"

"I thought of laughter..." I said slowly. My head felt a little light, and I blinked a few times.

"What about Noiz?" Mink continued, his intense gaze searching my face. I thought of the colour green instantly. A pale green, the same colour as fresh limes.

We repeated this process for almost an hour, Mink talking about different names or places that I may recognise. A lot of the time, I'd get a really vague image, or remember some obscure detail like a sound or a smell or a colour, some association that seemed to be imprinted somewhere on the back of my mind. I'd try and hold the thought, try and uncover more of it. I felt like I was tugging at the memories, trying to force them forward out of the hazy darkness, but in the end it was useless and they all seemed to slip away, like sand through my fingers.

"It's no use!" I finally sighed, feeling agitated and worn out. My mind felt drained, and my body was aching. At some point Mink had pulled out a small notepad and began taking notes.

"What about me?" he finally asked. The resolve in his golden eyes wavered slightly. I felt like he was uneasy when he asked, like he was worried about what I was going to remember. Perhaps something significant had happened between us.

I looked at him again, my eyes searching his. I felt a little embarrassed with our direct gazes meeting, but for some reason I didn't want to look away. No. I couldn't. I knew those eyes, but at the same time I didn't. Not as they were right now anyway. It seemed like they were colder before. Another image merged with what I was seeing, like a transparent layer overlapping for a few seconds, the picture vivid and clear and then gone in a flash, the way lightening lights up the sky for a split second. Vivid blue eyes stared back at me in that moment before they melted away, returning to gold. I hesitated before asking about it.

"Your eyes." I said, realising I might be completely wrong and end up sounding like an idiot. "Were they blue before?"

He blinked and then nodded. "I used to wear contact lenses." he said. That made sense. People's eyes didn't just completely change colour, after all. I felt a warm joy lift my heart. I'd remembered something correctly. The small victory gave me hope, and before I knew it I was grinning like an idiot. Not only that, but relief washed over me. A pent up worry had been making me feel tense. The worry that I didn't actually know this man, that he was playing some sort of game and I was being fooled, for whatever reason. But now I knew that I'd met him before. Even if I couldn't remember exactly when or how, deep in my gut I knew it for certain that I had.

He smiled at me ever so slightly, and then it faded from his face, like a light flickering out.

* * *

Mink knew he was being selfish, but he was unable to tell Aoba the truth of how they knew each other, and the horrible atrocities he'd put him through, so the moment he'd learned of Aoba's amnesia, shamefully he had felt relieved. Aoba didn't know of what he'd done, what Mink had put him through. But then dread crept upon him, cold and dark like ice in his blood, when he'd realised there was a chance that Aoba would remember eventually. That thought seemed to throw his entire mind into turmoil, split his heart with an inner conflict. He cared about Aoba, even after all this time he'd never stopped feeling that way, whatever it was he felt, that strange feeling inside him that was reserved for only one man. And Aoba seemed so upset and frustrated at himself over his lost memories, so Mink wanted to do what he could to help him, but at the same time if Aoba was to fully remember everything, he was sure he'd lose him again.

Aoba would hate him, and he'd leave. That was the last thing he wanted, he couldn't bear to lose him again, and it was dangerous out there, he might really die on the streets, especially now winter was coming. Aoba had already noticed the change in his eye colour, so it was only a matter of time before he remembered other things and eventually it all came back. He didn't really want to think about what would happen then.

But he couldn't help but look at Aoba now, painted pale gold in the rays of early sunlight, his eyes seemed to hold a warm glow, and when he smiled brightly, Mink was captivated by how beautiful he became. It was weird to think of another man as beautiful, but Aoba had always been good looking, more than any woman he'd ever come across. He was slender with fine features, delicate hazel eyes, a pale, gentle face. Even now you could still see that in him, despite how thin his body had become, how his face was colorless and sunken and his cheeks were hollow, the bones protruding, and there was shadows beneath his eyes, that sunny hazel becoming dull and lifeless. He was still beautiful, and just for a moment as he smiled at Mink, all the colour seemed to return to his face, the life rushing back into him as he became a reflection of his old self.

* * *

After breakfast and our long conversation, Mink had told me he would run me a bath. I'd been a little hesitant to accept his offer, for some reason it felt odd, bathing in someone else's home when I barely even knew him. but I was in need of a wash, badly.

I'd rarely had the chance the past few weeks to clean myself properly, only managing to use restaurant toilets when no one else was around and places like that. It felt like my hair was becoming a straggled, greasy mess and dirt and grime were literally beginning to cling to my skin and spread like fungus. And not to mention how awful I smelled. So reluctantly I had accepted his offer. And then awkwardly allowed him to assist me in getting my clothes off and into the tub because I was struggling with my ankle. I was in bit of pain, and I fumbled around a lot with my clothes. It was extremely inconvenient and embarrassing, although he had suddenly seemed fascinated by the wooden paneling on the walls, and had been too preoccupied to look my way.

At first the hot water stung me. My bandages had been removed, and Mink said he'd replace them one I was done, so the water seemed to seep into my cuts as painfully as salt being rubbed into my wounds, and the pain in my ankle was so intense it felt like it was burning. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out in pain, and tears had formed in the corners of my eyes. I was quite shocked by how badly beaten up I was now that I could see my naked body. In addition to the familiar scars caused by Virus and Trip, I had a few yellow purple bruises spanning across the skin of my legs, my stomach, my hips, and my arms, and my ankle was red and swollen up to twice it's normal size. What was most alarming though was the gash along my side, a long red cut through my skin, that stung painfully every time I moved. I tried my best to relax, but it had taken me a while to settle and for the pain in my body to die down a little.

Now I sat in a wooden tub of warm water, and it felt like I was soaking in a hot, steaming paradise, the earlier aches and pains dulled down and forgotten. The vapour that rose from the surface seemed to open up the pours on my face and cleanse my skin, and the warm water felt like it was scraping all the filth from my body. And even the soap smelled amazing, it was just a plain, ordinary bar of soap but it smelled to fresh and sweet and clean. I felt like an idiot for getting so excited over trivial things, but to me these were luxury items, something I hadn't enjoyed in a long time. Back with Virus and Trip, they'd just dump me in a bath tub and roughly hand wash me. It was often a painful and terrifying experience. And before that. Well I'd taken baths and showers obviously, I just couldn't specifically remember what it had been like.

But now it was heaven. I scrubbed every inch of my body, over and over until my skin was rubbed raw, but I felt like I was definitely fully cleansed of every grain of dirt. I washed my hair, too. Submerging the back of my head in the water, running my hands through it, feeling it getting softer and cleaner as it sifted through my fingers in the hot water. When I sat back up, my head felt extremely heavy, my soaking hair plastered to my head dripping water down my face and shoulders.

And then I just lay back and relaxed for a while, letting the water warm my body, melting away the ice in my bones. For the first time since I escaped, felt like maybe I could go back to normal, that I would actually have a chance to lead an ordinary life after everything I'd been through. But what was normal for me? How had I spent every day before I'd come here? I had no idea. I didn't even know who I was anymore. All I had left of myself was a name. Aoba Seragaki. But even to me that just sounded like senseless drivel when I said it. Maybe it's because they'd repeated my name over and over, than it no longer held any meaning to me. In the end I wasn't even sure if it really was my name, or if it was just words they'd chose to call me by. Maybe I was someone who didn't exist all together, maybe I had no memories because there were none to remember. I could have been a robot, something they'd created just to use for whatever they decided they desired that night. That's the kind of thoughts that used to run through my head on a daily basis, the ideas that I would torture myself with as they played through my mind.

But Mink knew me. Mink spoke of my past, and people in it, and even though it was just barely scraps, worthless slivers of useless information that were floating around inside my head, I had recalled some things from the words he spoke. So I must be a real person, with a real past. I didn't want to think too deeply about it, but I couldn't help it. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what kind of person I was. Was I much different than I am now? Or could personalities really be warped to such an extent that I was no longer my original self, but rather someone else? If I remembered, would I go back to normal? It was so confusing, but in my head I tried to paint a picture of what it might have been like back then, to build an image of myself and my friends and family from the names I'd heard Mink say earlier, hoping it might bring to light something concealed within the depths of my mind.

Mink had said since he's not sure what caused me to lose my memories, there's no telling when or if they will return, but it would be best to be patient, give it time. I wasn't sure how I'd lost them either. Whether everything in my head faded gradually, or just dissipated over night. Of course I wouldn't know, I couldn't remember. I tried to relax, to push the maelstrom of swirling thoughts to the back of my mind. There were questions I couldn't answer no matter how much I pondered over it, and even though it was frustrating, I just had to leave it be for now. I had faith that with time it would all come back to me, so there was no need to worry about any of it at the moment.

A knock on the door pulled me from reverie, and I realised the water temperature had dropped from a comforting heat that enveloped me, to an unpleasant lukewarm that consumed my body heat. I shivered slightly, the tepid water rippling around my slender body. "It's been almost an hour." I heard Mink say, his deep voice muffled through the wall. He didn't sound impatient or annoyed.

"Sorry." I called back. "I'll get out now."

"You need any help?" he responded

I hesitated at his question. I doubted I'd be able to support myself on this sore ankle, but it was so embarrassing before when he helped me, I was reluctant to relive the shame.

"I think I'll be ok."

I heard a grunt, and then the sound of him walking away, faint foot steps on the wooden flooring.

I tried to stand up, leaning against the side of the tub with my hands, but a as soon as I put any weight on my leg, daggers of pain shot up to my knee, my ankle screaming in protest. I sat back down, taking a deep breathe and closing my eyes. He'd left a towel and a change of clothes hanging over a towel rack at the other side of the room. It wasn't too far away, all I had to do was get there. Easier said than done. I tried to stand up again, this time raising my bad foot and supporting myself with one leg. My entire body shook violently as I stepped over the tub. All I had to do was maneuver myself to sit on the edge, and then slide onto the floor from there. It was too late to call him back, I didn't want to be a bother.

There was a sudden stabbing sensation in my side, a pain blazing through my body, and it shocked me so much I lost balance. Before I knew it I was falling forward, crashing onto the hard floor. For a moment bone jarring agony shot through me like white hot needle pricks in my every joint. My vision blacked, my eyes stung, and I heard myself scream. Then I was just lying on the floor, soaking wet and naked, crying in agony. It hurt. My entire body hurt, I couldn't stop my trembling our the tears spilling from my eyes. All I could think of through the pain was how pathetic and useless I'd become.

I heard the door open, I felt something soft being draped over my body, and Mink's voice. "Dumbass." he said sternly. "I said I'd help."

My nose was all clogged, my throat burned, and my voice came out horrible and whiny as I spoke. "I'm sorry!" I said, trying to force back my sobs. "I-I just didn't want to be a burden." I hated crying in front of other people. Virus and Trip had brought me to tears many times, and it was embarrassing and shameful. I felt like an idiot, but I couldn't stop crying. My entire body was burning with agony, and I felt so frustrated at myself. I hated it.

"It's okay." his voice was suddenly soft. I looked up at him warily, my vision blurred with tears. He was kneeling next to me, adjusting the towel over my body so I was completely covered. "This is very you, Aoba." he said, looking down at me with wistful eyes.

I blinked. "What do you mean?" I said, trying to push myself into a sitting position.

"Stubborn and reckless." he said. And then he bent over me and kissed me.

My eyes went wide, and a for a moment my mind was drawn away from all the aches and pains in my body to the softness of his warm lips against my own, which quivered slightly. It was sweet, a slight hint of cinnamon brushing against my mouth, seeping into my lips. This feeling was familiar. Were things like this with him before? Despite the fact he was clearly older, were he and I...like that?

When he pulled away, I felt like all the breathe had been removed from my body, and I froze, speechless. He looked at me, a dark shadow behind his gaze despite his impassive face. And I suddenly knew what that feeling was from earlier, the feeling that there was something huge between us, something unspeakable. I wanted to ask what we were to each other, I wanted the truth this time, but suddenly my throat felt completely dried out and my voice wouldn't pass my lips.

"I'll help you get dressed." he said. His eyes were still on me, studying me carefully. Perhaps he was expecting some sort of reaction beyond dumbfounded silence. But I didn't know what to do. I only nodded, feeling my body heat up, warmth pooling into my cheeks. My heart pounded in my chest, and my skin prickled. This was embarrassing. But not in a shameful way. I didn't think it was weird for me to kiss other men. Maybe that's because I'd grown used to it with Virus and Trip though...or maybe I had just always been that way, and couldn't remember.

I felt like there air around us was heavy and thick. There was too much to be done, to much to be said, too many questions clouding my mind. But he didn't look like he wanted to answer. He helped me dry myself off and get clothed in silence, purposely not looking my way. I had to dress in an old shirt and pair of jeans of his. The plain black t shirt was much too large and baggy. It hung down past my thighs, but it the looseness admittedly made it quite comfortable. And it was soft and clean too. The jeans were too wide for my thin frame, and could only be held up with a belt. They also had to be rolled up at the bottom, several times, since they were too long for slim legs.

He told me he'd have my clothes washed for tomorrow, so I'd have to deal with this for today. He also offered to buy some basic apparel in my size, but I didn't want him to go through the trouble. I felt like he'd just be throwing his money away on someone like me.

Still. If he really cared about me, and in that way too, maybe it was normal for him to want to do these things for me. Maybe that's why he'd helped me so much. I sat on the sofa, warm blanket wrapped around me, pondering. I couldn't get the kiss out of my mind, the sensation of his lips on mine seemed so familiar, yet so surreal at the same time. Had it even really happened? There's no way I'd dreamed the whole thing, yet Mink went on as though it had never happened at all. It was frustrating. I just wanted answers to all the questions, but I didn't even know which questions to ask in the first place.


	4. Dreamcatcher

For the next few weeks, every time I faced Mink I felt an awkward embarrassment wash over me, a slight heat pooling into my cheeks, and I found it difficult to look him in the eye. But the feeling was clearly one sided, as he just seemed to carry on as usual, as though nothing had occurred between us. He helped me move around the house, assisted me with bathing, cooked meals for me which he either brought to me in my room, or we ate together at the dining table. He changed my bandages as well, but gradually by body was healing, although there would be scars left behind. He'd managed to get his hands on some metal crutches, so I'd began using them to move around which made things a lot easier on the both of us, but he warned me it could take another few weeks before I could walk again unassisted, and was adamant that if I ever needed help, I was just to ask rather than be stubborn and try and manage alone. He reminded me of the incident with the bath tub, and his lips twitched ever so slightly into a sly smile as he spoke.

Thinking back to that day made my face go red. So I thought it was best to just forget about the way we kissed, and how it made my heart leap in my chest. His actions since then had ignited strange feelings in me, that I was finding hard to push down, but I knew I had to shake them off. Our kiss had obviously meant nothing to him and what he was doing for me now wasn't because he cared for me in that way. Although that thought was a stab of disappointment to me, I also felt relieved in a way that he didn't have feelings for me. It meant we could both just forget about it and the uncomfortable atmosphere would fade.

We'd also talked a few more times about my hidden past over the weeks too, and I'd managed to remember some things, although right now it seemed like I'd only scraped the surface of my mind. I remembered vaguely about Koujaku, who he was and what he looked liked, although the image was a bit blurred and distorted, like an out of focus film. From what I could recall he was a tall man with long dark hair fashioned into a ponytail. He was only a few years older than me, perhaps twenty six or twenty seven, and considerably handsome with fine but striking features and a distinct scar that cut across his nose, marring his lightly tanned skin. He was always smiling kindly, with warm red eyes, although one was constantly hidden under a curtain of dark hair that fell over the right side of his face. He was usually wearing a beautifully patterned crimson kimono, wrapped loosely around his body, exposing his muscular chest. I think at some point in my life, I may have had romantic feelings towards him, but I wasn't really sure. He was my best friend, apparently. When I thought of him, I felt warmth and admiration, like he was someone who I could rely on for anything, someone who was always watching over me with those steady eyes, someone who would do their best to protect me. Is that what it felt like to have a best friend? I couldn't really remember any of my friends.

I remembered some things from earlier on in my life too, when I was a child. Childhood memories for some reason seemed to come to me sharper and clearer, and they felt more alive and vivid. It was odd because being so long ago, they were supposed to be distant and forgotten, yet somehow they seemed so close, almost like I was actually there again.

I recalled days where I was so unbelievably lonely, it was like something had been hollowed out from inside me and without it I was empty. It was days like that when my grandmother would carry me on her back as I cried into the soft material of her yellow dress, soaking it with tears. I could remember her voice so clearly, gruff but kind as she spoke words to comfort me, and the pale pink colour of her hair, although her face was still unclear to me save for the colour of her considerate blue eyes.

And then there was a memory of being teased by nameless children while I was playing alone at the park. They had had pulled and tugged at my hair, calling me names until I had cried. I was eight or nine at the time, so it was pretty distressing, although thinking back it seemed like something so trivial and stupid to be upset by. That was the day Koujaku and I met, I remember how he rushed in to save me and chased away the bullies. I remembered staring at his back in wide eyed wonder, thinking that he must be some sort of super hero from a comic book. Even back then he had worn a red kimono, and traditional attire like that was something strange and different, so he really did look unique to me, like something from a fantasy book. He had seemed to stand so strong and tall at the time, towering over both me and the other kids, creating a wall between us. When he turned to me his eyes were dark with concern, but he had smiled kindly. He'd comforted me and walked me home, and we'd been friends ever since. It was still a bit hazy, but it made me feel extremely warm and happy, to play that scene over in my head. It was like watching your favourite part of a movie and noticing exciting new details every time.

There wasn't really anything else significant I could recall, but I had a feeling it was all gradually coming back to me. I could feel the memories within me, I just couldn't envision them. It was as though they were obscured in darkness and shadows, but ever so slowly being cast into the light.

Recently, he'd moved me into the spare room, so now I lay in my new bed, still trying to get used to the idea of having a bed that was my own. I shifted nervously beneath the covers, trying to fall asleep. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable, I just wasn't wasn't used to feeling safe in a bed, since lots of unspeakable and terrifying things had taken place in Virus and Trip's beds. It was like this every night I'd spent here, but eventually I managed to fall asleep. Finally relaxing after hours of lying in the dark, staring up at the barely visible ceiling, making sure that I was alone, that no one was going to come through and hurt me. I knew I was safe, and that the idea I was in danger was preposterous, but it was hard to shake off all the feelings that had been ingrained into me.

Eventually exhaustion over came me in waves, and I fell asleep, only to be jolted awake by a nightmare.

 _"Aoba...we love you..."_

Their voices still echoed through my head, even after I awoke. I could still see their perverse laughing faces and icy blue eyes, still feel the agony of my skin being clawed and torn off in strips by their prying hands until I felt nothing but horror, saw nothing but my own blood as it painted the room around me. Through the distorted darkness, a spear of terror struck my racing heart when I jolted awake into the pitch black of the night, trembling and sweating beneath the bed covers.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest, cold sweat dripping from every pore in my body, and I struggled to breathe, taking in shallow breathes as though my throat was being crushed. My body felt crushed under a heavy weight too, as though the bed covers were vines wrapping around me and holding me down. I struggled against them in a blind panic, frantically pushing against them as though I was trying to break free of chains, hearing myself hysterically cry out. My mind was suddenly thrown back to my time with Virus and Trip, and it felt like I was shackled to them again and I could feel the sting of iron around my wrists, the cold metal seeping into my skin like ice.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a familiar voice called out my name as Mink entered the room. I knew it was him, and I knew I was safe, but terror lanced through me anyway, washing away all reason. All I could see was Virus and Trip, like ghosts dancing around in the dark, all I could hear was their voices, echoing through my head like a sinister joke that drowned out everything else. Their smiles were engraved into the back of my eyelids every time I closed my eyes, the pain they had caused me was burned into my mind, as though scorched there with hot iron. Even though I had escaped them, I could still feel those shackles around my body, still hear the metallic ringing of the chains every time I moved.

In my mindless panic I began desperately lashing out at thin air, trying to attack some phantom that wasn't actually there, a memory from a past I wished I could forget. I could hear myself screaming, but it was like it wasn't really my voice.

My fist suddenly connected with something hard, and then my wrists were trapped in the warm grip of large hands, tightly clamped around them. I tried to pull away, but that hold on me was so strong that I could barely move my frail limbs. "Let me go!" I cried, my voice hoarse and trembling. "Please..." I began pleading quietly

"Aoba." A voice spoke harshly, and suddenly I was no longer staring at a world of chaos and darkness filled with laughing faces and metal chains, but rather golden eyes fiery with anger. "Wake up, idiot." Mink grunted, sounding extremely agitated. I blinked, feeling something warm and wet roll down my face. "Mink..." I muttered, staring at him through a blur of tears as my senses and wits gradually returned. That's right...I was in Mink's house. With my mind cleared of half asleep delusions, I realised that I was in Mink's spare room.

As he loosened his hold on my wrists, I swung my sleepy gaze around the room, my mind still in a little bit of a muddle. I tried to take everything in, to confirm it was all real and I was actually there. There was the familiar sight of the bedroom, but it was blanketed in darkness, so it became obscured. But everything was there, I could make out the black silhouettes of the wooden desk and chair in the corner, the empty book shelf and a wardrobe across from me. "Are you calm now?" Mink asked, his eyes watching me like a hawk. I guess he was waiting for me to freak out again, but I only nodded in silence, feeling a sickness burn at the bottom of my stomach. "Sorry." I muttered quietly.

"It's not your fault." He responded, but as usual his tone was hard to read and I couldn't make out his expression in the dark. I was certain he was angry at me. I'd woken him up in the middle of the night and then lashed out at him for trying to help me.

I was still trembling, a dim fear buzzing through my nerves, but I tried hard to push it down, because I knew it was just another nightmare, and that right now I was in a safe place. But no matter how safe I was, it couldn't stop the mindless panic that terrifying dreams like that caused, and I couldn't stop the memories of how Virus and Trip had tortured me from resurfacing. It had only been two months, and some of the nights I'd spent on the streets, freezing beneath the cold light of the stars, or tucked into cramped little alleys, curled up and shivering, I was too afraid to sleep in case I woke up to find myself back with them again. The only sleep I had gotten usually came from passing out due to exhaustion or hunger.

I knew it was different now, that I was safer with Mink than I had been in a long time, but those fears always lingered within me, fear that I'd be imprisoned again, fear that I'd be abused and tortured, fear that I would return to a mindless puppet of their whims, and lose myself in despair. And now I was afraid of the coldness and hunger of the streets, too.

Mink had still been holding me, but he abruptly let go and stood up to leave. Before I could stop myself, I called out his name. He turned and stared at me, and I could almost feel his gaze burn into my skin. I shrunk back beneath the covers and felt heat rush to my face. "I'm scared. Can you stay for a while?" I didn't really know what I was saying, but I regretted those words the instant they left my mouth. I had no idea why I'd requested something so childish, but when I found the courage to look back up at him again, Mink just frown, let out a long sigh of frustration and grabbed the chair from the other side of the room. He sat himself at the end of the bed, and I could feel his watchful eyes on me, his presence somehow familiar and comforting.

"Another nightmare?" he asked.

"Yeah." I replied nervously. "I have them a lot."

He made a small noise that sounded a little like a grunt, and then fell silent. I thought of trying to say something, but I felt too tired to hold a conversation, my thoughts were slow and clumsy, the haze of sleep already descending upon me once more. After a while I felt overcome with a heavy exhaustion, that seemed to spread to every part of my body. "I'm sorry for making you stay." I mumbled groggily, closing my eyes.

"It's fine." he replied, and that was the last we spoke before I slipped back into sleep. When I awoke, it was to a stream of orange sunlight pouring through the windows, illuminating the room in its fiery glow. For once I'd had pleasant dreams, but as I woke up and the edges of sleep drifted away, so did the memories of what I'd dreamed, leaving only a fading warmth and comfort behind. As I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position, I noticed something unfamiliar from the corner of my eye, swaying above the bed. I turned my gaze up and saw a blue dream catcher, hanging on the wall above me.

I stared at it for a while, taken aback. It definitely hadn't been there before this morning. But now it gracefully dangled above me, and the more I stared at it, the more I came to admire its beauty. The intricate web design that was woven into the hoop, complimented by the blue feathers and beads attached to it, made me think this was something someone had put a lot of work and care into creating. I wondered if Mink had made it, but it seemed more likely it was just an old trinket he had lying around, and had decided to put it up in my room. Even so, the thought was enough to make my heart flutter with joy, a subtle warmth filling me. He had done this for me, however small a gesture it was, because he knew I was troubled by nightmares.

I asked him about it while we ate breakfast together, but he just changed the subject, and then lapsed into silence for the rest of the morning. I was getting used to this kind of behavior from him. He wasn't very talkative, never saying more than he needed to or wanted to. He didn't really express himself, or show very much emotion at all for that matter. But when he did, he was always very genuine and it was rare moments like that I seemed to enjoy his company the most. Mink was a kind person as far as I knew, and I really hoped my memories of him would return soon, because I thought it would give me a little more understanding of who he really is.


	5. Hell is Inside My Head

**Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, I scrapped all my ideas because I didn't like them, and then I thought for a while before continuing with this story. This entire chapter was written with no pre planning as I usually do, and just continued from where I left off, going with the flow of my emotions rather than thinking too hard about everything. I've never written this way before with any story, so I would really like to know if it works or not.**

Mink had left for work after breakfast. This was his first day back at work since he took me in. I assume he had taken time off because of me, which made me feel a little guilty. A lot of the time I felt as though I was interrupting his life, like a heavy stone cast into a flowing river, forcing the current to part around it. I was just in the way, and I made things harder for him. I had tried to tell him about it, and asked him not to bother too much with me, but he only silenced me and called me stupid for worrying. He really didn't seem to mind my presence, he was never really disturbed by my existence apart from on the odd occasion when we talked or when I needed assistance with anything. He was quiet and distant most of the time. Maybe to other people that would have felt frustrating or lonely, but to me it was nice. I felt more comfortable around someone who need their space and gave me mine, since before I was here Virus and Trip were constantly doting over me in their sick and twisted way.

I had no idea where he worked or what he did, but he told me when he left at around nine in the morning that he would be back at seven and he'd prepare dinner for me then. At first I felt awkward alone in his home without him there. It was like I was a little dark smudge on an otherwise perfect painting, something that didn't belong in the scene. For a few hours I was too afraid to touch anything, for some reason it just didn't feel right to go through his stuff without him there. Even if he had told me to help myself to anything I needed. Food, a bath, books, those kind of things. But I couldn't bring myself to.

I ended up sitting around in the spare room all morning, lying in bed until I eventually dozed off.

 _Vivid lights burst into my eyes, blinding me with a kaleidoscope of dazzling colours. At first they had made me feel giddy and excited, and I wanted to laugh and spin around and dance under the bright lights that burned above me like falling stars. Loud booming music invaded my head, giving me a strange rush of exhilaration that made me feel invincible. Nothing mattered anymore, I could just laugh all the pain away, and the world would keep on spinning and I would spin with it. Then gradually my head began to ache, and my stomach felt like it was doing flips, and bile burned the back of my throat as tears stung my eyes. I wanted to get away, but my body felt numb, my steps slow and clumsy. The room around me began to spin, and eventually the ground beneath my feet turned from solid Earth to rippling water and I began falling as though I was sinking into it, being swallowed beneath the tide. That's when I felt strong arms around me, dragging me away._

 _I closed my eyes, trying not to throw up, and the bursting lights were burned onto the backs of my eyelids still, even after they were long gone. The music still thudded faintly in the distance like the muffled beat of a heart, and I still felt giddy and a little nauseous. When I finally looked up a cold gaze seemed to pierce into me, blue green eyes cool and steady like the surface of a lake. I was in a strange daze, and I couldn't tell who it is looking down at me, but suddenly those hands slammed me hard into a wall, knocking the breathe from my lungs. Everything went white for a moment, and my eyes burned as though they were being scorched with fire, and suddenly a sharp pain tore through my lower half, something hot and hard pressing into my ass. I felt like I was being torn in two pieces, and the pain was so unbearable. But at the same time, I wasn't distressed, and a strange thrill ran through me making my dick raise its head. I gasped in a lung full of air as that hot mass pushed all the way into me, and wrapped my arms around the person who was fucking me. It was painful, but at the same time I was so turned on I cried out in pleasure, digging my hands into the back of his hair. Long, thick dreadlocks slipped between my fingers, and I begged him for more, to fuck me harder. I wanted it, I needed it, I didn't understand why, I just did._

 _Tears streamed down my face, and my voice came out in hoarse moans, strained with both agony and pleasure. I could barely breathe through the pain, but I was also being pushed toward a climax by how thrilling it was. Deep down I knew this wasn't right, this wasn't who I was at all, but right now I didn't care. I just wanted to come, to feel that hot bliss shudder through my body. "Harder...More." I pleaded with him. My voice sounded strange and foreign to my own ears. "I want to come soon, Mink."_

I awoke with a start, bolting upright as hot sweat dripped down my face. The bed sheets felt warm and heavy, and quickly I shoved them aside, crawling out from beneath them and taking a deep breathe. My face was hot and embarrassment and shame coursed through me as I remembered the dream. At first I had no idea who I had dreamed of, but slowly as the memories came swirling back, I realised I had saw Mink's face. The old him, with the cold blue eyes. I tried to get out of bed, but as soon as I moved a strange feeling ran through my lower body. Startled, I looked down and realised there was a bulge beneath my pants, and an odd feeling fluttered in my stomach. My dick was a little hard, and trapped beneath my clothes it was increasingly becoming more and more uncomfortable.

I stared down in shock at my body's reaction to that nightmarish dream. I recalled the feeling of pleasure burning through me and the desperate desire to come, and felt shame twist through my gut. And a faint hint of excitement. Mink wasn't in...maybe I could relieve myself. The idea made my cheeks flare up, and I closed my eyes. It was just a physiological reaction to a dream of having sex...so it wouldn't be so bad if I just got rid of it. I opened my eyes again and with some resolve I unzipped my pants, my hands shaking. Taking a deep breathe to calm my trembling nerves, I delved into my pants, and pulled my penis out. As soon as my hand clamped around it, a sweetness shot through my hips and I gasped.

It had been so long since I'd been pleasured by my own will. This wasn't being forced upon me, this was my choice. With determination I began slowly stroking, one hand around my shaft, one hand over my mouth. I knew Mink wasn't here, he wouldn't be back from work for another few hours, and there was no one around to hear me, but I still felt embarrassed letting my voice escape, hearing it echo around the room and back into my ears. In my dream I had moaned loudly, begged shamelessly. But in reality I wasn't like that, and just thinking of doing that made my stomach clench tightly. I couldn't.

As I jacked myself off, increasing in speed, I ran my thumb over the tip, and a fierce wave ran through me, making me shiver. My face was burning, and my body was sweating. An intense sweetness began growing, and my hips felt numb. My mind began to go into a daze, my thoughts melting away in the hot fire of pleasure, my lower half over come with it as I drew myself closer to the edge. Precum spilled from the tip, and I used it to make my rough strokes smoother. "oh, god," I whispered into my knuckles, trying not to cry out. I imagined it was Mink's hand around me, tugging me tightly between his large fingers, his eyes watching my every move, his breathe against my face. For some reason that made me want to come even more. I remembered the dream, the sensation of him inside me, the feeling of his huge arms wrapped around me. "Mink..." I moaned softly, as my whole body began to shudder.

I arched my back, remember how rough his thrusts had been, how he'd pressed me against the wall and fucked me. Why had it felt so amazing? Normally such treatment would have made me feel afraid, but I remembered it only with excitement. Wave upon wave of intense pleasure crashed upon me, building gloriously until I felt like it was going to burst from me. My hips were trembling and a deep fire had settled in my stomach. Thinking of Mink, I shamelessly cried out into my sweaty hand as I came, the white hot semen all released in one string. My entire body felt shaky, and I took deep breathes, trying to recover. I slumped back into the bed, and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The blue dream catcher caught my eye, fluttering at the edges of my vision like a little bird in a tree.

After a while, my senses swam back to me and with horror I realised what I had done. I had masturbated, and even more shocking I had came while thinking of Mink. That wasn't normal, there had to be something wrong with me. And that dream, that twisted, terrifying dream. That wasn't normal either. It was like I was getting Mink mixed up with my memories of Virus and Trip, and it had all blurred into one massive nightmare. A warped reality where everything was distorted. I found pleasure in what they did to me to escape from the pain, and eventually I had stopped feeling anything at all, fully handing myself over to them. That's what had been happening in my dream, too. So I must have just been confused, because Mink would never force himself on me like that.

But what if I had asked him to? Would he do it then? Maybe before I had enjoyed that kind of treatment, got some sort of thrill from being used so roughly like that. Maybe I enjoyed it from Virus and Trip too, maybe I wanted them to hurt me like they did. And it got out of hand, it all became too much, and that's why I'd become so afraid of them. I didn't know anymore, I felt like once again my whole world had been thrust into chaos and I didn't understand a damn thing. It was frustrating just to think of, so I tried not to remember those two and what they had put me through. Whoever I was now, I didn't ever want to be treated like that again, even if the old me enjoyed it.

The dream had been so alive and vivid, even now when I thought of it, it felt more like reality than something I'd dreamed up. Maybe it had really happened. It seemed like something impossible. Mink with someone like me, in a place like that. Having sex. I let out a small, bitter laugh and wearily pushed myself up. My body wasn't too tired since I had just napped, but my limbs still felt heavy, as though pulled down with invisible weights. I carefully zipped up my pants, and reached for my crutches by the side of the bed. None of it mattered anyway. Whatever past I had, I now knew it would be painful to remember. I had a strange feeling that I was chained to something dark, something that I would probably be better off forgetting. So why bother stirring up the hornets nest and letting them all loose at once? I shouldn't force myself to recall it all. I should just wait for it to come. I felt like if I did it that way, I'd be better off. So I decided to forget the dream.

After trying to clean myself up, still feeling a slight shame run through me, I waited patiently for Mink to come home. I wasn't sure if I could face him without embarrassment flaring up on my face, but I was trying to mentally prepare myself for that moment nonetheless. I sat on the sofa, pulling the warm woolen blanket over my lap to hide any remaining marks on my pants, as I stared at the front door intently. Just as I began dozing off, the warm blanket wrapped around me softly, evidently more tired than I thought I was, I heard the door handle rattle. I opened my eyes slowly, to see the front door crack open, dull silvery moonlight pouring through the gap. My entire body stiffened, and I held my breathe. I wasn't sure if I could face him now that the time had come.

"Aoba," he said as he walked into his home. "What are you doing sitting there without the fire on? Do you want to get ill?" his voice was harsh and demanding, but by now I realised that was his way of showing concern.

He slammed the door behind him and stalked across the room. For a moment he looked strange, there were small white flakes sprinkled through his hair and over his dark coat. It took me a hazy moment to realise it was snow. I hadn't even been thinking of the weather, I was too busy focusing on how to react when I saw him. But now that I had, all the tension seemed to drain from my body and I felt a strange warmth as he lit the fire on the opposite end of the room. It wasn't from the flames that jumped into life, burning bright and orange as they danced in the grate. It was something else, a tenderness that seemed to wash through me. "Thanks." I said quietly. He only glared at me accusingly. "Next time, light it yourself."

"I will," I replied.

He trudged into the kitchen, leaving a trail of slushy water behind him on the floor as melting snow fell from his boots. "I bet you didn't eat all day!" he called back to me. My stomach grumbled in response, and I let out an embarrassed groan. I heard the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing, and plates clattering, and a moment later Mink appeared from the kitchen once more.

"Jeez, you're an idiot," he muttered, setting a plate on the table. I narrowed my eyes on it, examining the food which sat on top. "It's a cheese sandwich," he grumbled. "Eat it while I prepare dinner,"

"Thank you." I said quietly.

He eyed me suspiciously, before leaning in closer. His warm golden eyes looked straight into mine, as though to confirm something. "You're acting funny." he said, his voice low. I felt like his eyes were seeing right through me, like my body was made of glass. I shook my head in protest. "I'm fine!" I said, feeling a nervous flutter in my chest. He suddenly pulled the blanket away and glanced at my crotch. My face burned and I turned away from him. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing toward the stains leftover from my earlier activity. I hadn't been able to thoroughly clean it all off, but I was sure he wouldn't notice. "N-nothing!" I sputtered.

Mink only sighed. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said, his voice strangely soft. His face seemed to slacken, and a small smile tugged at his lips. I felt like I was going to cry with shame, but before I could say another word his lips were pressed against mine. I was shocked at how sudden it was, and for a moment my eyes shot open wide, before he I felt his gentle kiss sink in, and gradually I lost myself in it, closing my eyes. My body seemed to move naturally of its own accord, and I raised my arms up and looped them around his neck, my fingers running through his long brown hair. He broke away for a moment, leaning down even further, his knees on the floor so he was level with me, and pushed himself forward, forcing me to lean into the soft back of the couch "Aoba..." he said hoarsely, pressing his lips into my jaw. His warm breathe made me shudder. "Mink," I whispered, curling my fingers through his hair.

For some reason it felt so right like this, like somehow this was where I belonged. I didn't know this man like he knew me, I had barely any real memories of him, but some emotion deep inside of me clicked, like a puzzle piece falling into a place, and I knew that one way or another this is how it was meant to be. He suddenly grabbed me, his arms going around my waist, and before I knew it our positions had switched. He sat on the sofa, and pulled me down on top of him so I was resting on his lap, one leg on either side. He pulled me forward and kissed me again, this time with a little more strength behind his lips, and I sighed against him, a heat spreading through my body like the sun had infused itself in my blood. His tongue brushed against my lips and I opened my mouth, inviting him in. Instantly he began toying with me, his tongue entwining with mine. The sensation sent odd shivers down my spine, and I let out small gasps and moans as we continued to kiss until we breathlessly pulled apart from one another.

Mink always seemed so calm and composed, someone who never got flustered, his stony face never revealing more than he wanted to. But as his hot hands slipped under my shirt, his breathe seemed to shake a little, and just for a moment his ever burning eyes wavered, like the flickering of a dying candle. At the same time I felt myself tense up, suddenly unsure of how far I wanted to go, how much of my body I wanted his hands to feel, his eyes to see. Virus and Trip were still engraved in the back of my mind, and the scars they had inflicted upon me were still etched into my skin. That would never go away. He didn't know about them. Maybe if this was how things were going to be, he deserved to know.

His hands came out from under my shirt, and before he could push me away I slowly climbed off of him and settled on the sofa next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes watching me carefully. "I shouldn't have done anything."

"Mink," I said softly, before taking a deep breathe. My nerves seemed to twist tightly with anxiety, but I knew it was time to explain to him where I had been. He obviously cared about me deeply, and I knew I cared for him too. He deserved some answers, some closure. I wasn't sure how to talk about it. I wasn't sure if I could tell him without falling apart. But I was sure I had to.

I began explaining to him, first that my only clear memory, although dim as it may be, was waking up in some sort of vehicle with Virus and Trip. And then I was in a house, chained up on the floor, my body naked and sore all over. And I explained how terrified I was the first time they had raped me, and how they took turns with me every day, treating me like a plaything. And how I stopped fighting back and eventually the fear faded, and I forced myself to find pleasure in order to run away from the pain. And eventually I stopped feeling all together. I was numb and empty. By then they didn't keep me chained up anymore. I was allowed to roam the house freely. But I wasn't allowed outside. One time they had both left together, but Virus came back to get something and as he was searching for it in his bedroom I walked out of the front door. I had no desire to escape, to make a break for my freedom, I had just recalled a strange urge to feel sunlight on my skin.

But Trip dragged me back inside and locked me in his room, and when they got back he beat my legs with a stick until they were so bruised and bloody I couldn't walk for a week, and he swore if I ever did it again he'd put a hammer to my knee caps so that I could never walk again. The pain had been so unbearable I almost passed out several times during the beating, and when he was done I had thrown up until there was nothing left in my stomach. After that had I sworn to him that I'd never go outside again.

Virus had sat and watched the entire time, his cool gaze regarding me indifferently, his long fingers curled around a large wine glass as usual. If somewhere deep inside me I could have gathered up the will to hate, I would have sworn to kill them both for it at the time.

After that I told Mink about how I eventually got away. There was a voice inside my head. I didn't know who he was at first, but eventually I realised he was another part of me. He was angry at me for letting them do this to me. He had said it was no fun anymore, and he wanted me to fight back. He had said if I was too scared to, he'd take over my body and do it for me. I told him it was useless, that I had become so weak I wasn't capable of lifting a finger against them. He wouldn't listen. I kept telling him to shut up, that I was better off just obeying them until the day I died, because the torture they would put me through would be worse than death. "But it's boring now." he had protested, again and again. "You've let them do this to you. It's pathetic. You're pathetic" he had sounded bitter and angry. I didn't blame him.

We argued a lot like that, but talking to him made me start to feel again. I felt like I was no longer dead inside, the numbness that had frozen me for so long eventually lifted, like fog clearing away. My emotions returned, filling the empty void that had rendered me lifeless.

And one day, they left the door unlocked. He told me to go outside. I remembered the beating I was given the last time, but for some reason I found the courage to open the door and step out. My body trembled so much at first I thought I was going to be sick. My legs had felt so hollow I could barely stay up right, and the bottom of my stomach had burned as though filled with fire. Outside of the house, there were trees. Lots and lots of trees. The sky had looked so big I thought it was an illusion, or that maybe it would come crashing down and crush me, and the sun was so bright it pricked into my eyes like needle points.

"Run, you fucking idiot!" the voice in my had head cried. So I ran.

By the time I got to the end of my explanation, I was shivering so much I could barely talk anymore, and my words choked out from my lips in a garbled mess. I dug my fingers into the material of my pants so tightly my knuckles had went bone white, and tears dripped down my face, the salt water stinging my lips. Reliving those moments of terror had been so hard, and I was sure Mink thought I was crazy. I was too scared to look at him, I couldn't even glance in his direction. I didn't know if or how he was looking at me. What face would he make when thought of me? How would he see me now? As some broken mess, some shattered china doll that could never be pieced back together. I realised that's all I was, all I would ever be. A broken mess of a man who was too weak to resist his torturers, with no memories of who he really was. How could Mink even bare to hold and kiss someone as worthless as me?

But when he finally spoke, his voice was filled only with kindness. He placed a large hand over mine, slightly soothing my trembling nerves. "Aoba," he said. Then he was silent for a moment. "I...I had no idea. That must have been worse than Hell," I expected him to look at me with pity from now on, treat me like I was so fragile I would break at any moment, but when our eyes met I saw only a burning resolve, deep in that sun coloured gaze. "That must have been hard to say. So I'll tell you about us and our past together, but you might not like what I have to say, Aoba."


	6. The Sickening Reality

Aoba stared at Mink, confused hazel eyes meeting a determined golden gaze. Mink knew that by telling Aoba everything, it could destroy their entire relationship, everything they had built over the past few weeks, but he wouldn't allow himself to regret it if it came to that. Aoba deserved to know the truth. The blue haired man's eyes wavered, and he looked down, seemingly deep in thought as a slight frown pulled at his lips. And when he looked up again after a few moments, there was no more confusion, no more hesitation. He looked straight up, right into Mink's eyes, the flames from the fire turning his resolute gaze from pale, unsteady hazel to strong, molten copper.

"No," he said with a quiet determination, his voice rippling through the silence. "I want to remember it all on my own."

Mink felt slight relief pull away the knot of tension in his chest, and he relaxed a little, not even realising how apprehensive he was. He knew of the other voice in Aoba's head, knew of the other part of him. It was an alternate personality that sometimes seeped through the cracks in his mind, a result of his unique 'Scrap' ability which allowed him to control others with his voice. But Aoba obviously had forgotten all about him, and for some reason it seemed that for now at least, it was dormant within him. He had seemed so confused as he tried to put it into words, and as he had spoke, his eyes had been constantly scanning Mink, searching his face for any doubt. But Mink had listened quietly, taking in every detail. To someone else it may have seemed completely insane, but to him it made a surprising amount of sense.

"Will you hold me?" Aoba suddenly asked, his voice drained. His eyes were still red ringed and damp with tears, and he lowered his gaze shyly, a small blush blooming on his fine cheeks.

Mink only nodded stiffly and pulled Aoba into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around him. Aoba slowly shifted onto his lap, and then turned so the back of his head was resting under Mink's, stray strands of his blue hair gently touching his chin. He seemed so small and frail in his hold, his tiny body trembling as he leaned back into Mink's body. He had held Aoba differently earlier, pulled him close and touched his body and lost control of himself, thinking only with a single minded desire to seek pleasure and warmth. But now the meaning of having Aoba in his arms was different. He only wanted to comfort him, give him reassurance he was in a safe place. Aoba shivered slightly, letting out a soft trembling breathe and Mink carefully pulled the blanket up over them, covering the other man along with himself.

For a while a comfortable silence fell over them, Aoba's quiet breathing becoming steady as he drifted into sleep, the gentle crackle of the dying flames in the fire place echoing trough out the room. Outside, the world seemed cold and unforgiving, the sky pitch dark as though painted over with ink, heavy flurries of snow harshly battering against the window, colouring it an icy white. But inside it was warm and comforting, the room bathed in a deep orange glow, the heat of the fire and Aoba by his side seeping into his skin. For once Mink felt like he was able to relax with Aoba next to him. He let out a quiet sigh, feeling the younger man shift slightly against him as moved in his sleep.

Of course he had worries. He worried about Aoba, about what had been done to him, about the scars on his body and the damage to his mind, whether those bastards would come looking for him again. And he worried about what would happen when Aoba's memories returned. How he would react if he knew Mink had used him and violated his body, and left him to die when his plans to destroy Oval tower had went wrong. The thought sent a bitter sickness twisting through his stomach, and he closed his eyes tightly. Back then he could only think of getting his own revenge, and the cold embrace of death that would greet him afterwards. It didn't matter who he used, who he hurt, who he killed, his mind only had space for his goal and nothing else.

But then Aoba used his Power, found a way in and crawled under his skin. He felt like a seed had been planted within his heart, and out of it, a desire to live again had blossomed. He would never fully break free from the chains that imprisoned him to his past, but they seemed to loosen around his body and eventually fall away. He was no longer trapped in the bindings that had held him in place since the day he lost everything. And at that moment he didn't know what would have been worse, giving up on his mission and dying there, or living with all the regret that had come flooding forward like a dark and unforgiving tide.

He looked down at the top of Aoba's head and gently rested his chin there, slowly moving a hand up and running his fingers through the other man's hair. For now, in this quiet moment, he almost felt as though he was at peace. He leaned back, resting his head against the sofa, and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling himself being pulled into the warm embrace of sleep as his consciousness drifted in and out in waves. He didn't know how long he had dozed off for before Aoba's voice woke him.

"Mink...earlier I remembered something," Aoba's sudden words stirred the air around them, coming out in a sleepy mumble.

Every time he heard Aoba say those words, his heart seemed to clench with an inescapable dread, but this time it was like an icy spike being rammed into his gut.

"What?" Mink inquired, his tone as composed as ever.

Aoba sighed, nervously shuffling around. "It was about you."

Mink froze, a cold fear clamping down on him. Of course Aoba was starting to remember things about him. It was only a matter of time before he got to the parts that were best left forgotten.

"What about me?" he asked cautiously.

"There was a lot of colourful lights and loud music , but it made me feel ill," He continued slowly, as though he was carefully thinking out each word. "You were there too and you took me away and..." His voice was strained and he quickly closed his mouth. Mink knew what had happened next. He closed his eyes, recalling the way it had felt to press Aoba's smaller body against the hard surface of a wall, to have those long, slender limbs wrapped around him as he forced himself inside. To hear Aoba cry out in joy, despite how painful it must have been to be taken like that. The smell of sweat dripping from them, the distant thrum of loud dance music, the look of twisted pleasure on Aoba's face as he came. Everything about that night was burned into his memory.

After a moment, he twisted himself around and looked up at Mink, his hazel eyes wide and wavering. "Did that really happen?"

He had this look on his face sometimes when he tried to explain his memories to Mink. Stared up at him expectantly, searching for some sort of confirmation it was real or plausible, and not something he had dreamed up.

Mink couldn't always say for sure, but he usually knew enough to make educated guesses.

Mink nodded slowly, and then looked away. Aoba dropped his gaze too, his face going bright red. "Y-you mean we really...It wasn't just a weird dream?"

"Yeah" Mink replied.

"In a place like that?" He asked.

"Yeah."

Aoba suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back against Mink and surprising him a little.

"Sorry," Aoba said after composing himself. "It...it just doesn't seem like something you would ever do."

"What doesn't?"

"Be in a place like that...with someone like me," he muttered.

"It was complicated," Mink replied, his voice low.

"Are...are you in love with me?" Aoba asked quietly, hesitantly.

"I don't know. Maybe," Mink said with a small shrug, wrapping his arms around the other man. It felt hard to let those words seep through his lips, but harder still to keep them contained. His chest felt tight, and his heart fluttered, but the only change on his face was the small smile that tugged at his mouth. "I probably am," he said again, his voice a little louder. But when his words earned no response, he realised Aoba had fallen back asleep in his arms.

* * *

I could have sworn I'd fallen asleep while wrapped up in the warm embrace of Mink. The last thing I could recall was his large arms gently pulling me closer to him, his soft, sweet scent filling my nose, his deep voice echoing in my ear. But when I awoke I was alone in my room, staring at the pale blue dream catcher that danced above me. The sight of it warmed my heart, and I could not recall any twisted dreams or dark nightmares, only a soft, soundless sleep that had lasted until morning, judging by the pale grey light that streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room in a muted glow. I heard footsteps from outside the room, getting louder as they echoed against the wooden floor, and then my door swung open, and Mink was staring down at me from the threshold, his face stern. "Wake up," he said, his loud voice reverberating through my tired, hazy mind like a beating drum.

I dragged myself into a sitting position, the bed covers falling away from my body as I wiped at my heavy lidded eyes. "I'm up, I'm up," I muttered, squinting at him through the blur of sleep.

"Good, get dressed. We're going into town," he announced. He was already fully clothed in a plain cotton shirt and dark, heavy jeans.

"...What?" I asked, tiredly blinking the sleep from my eyes.

"Hurry," he said, seeming impatient. All traces of the quiet, gentle man he had been last night were gone. He was back to his usual self, it seemed. I let out a small sigh and crawled out of bed, making my way toward the small set of drawers where my even smaller collection of basic clothes were kept. He lingered at the doorway, his eyes on me, until I turned to him, and with a small frown, asked him to leave while I got changed. Even though I was now aware he'd slept with me and had probably seen my naked body, I just wasn't comfortable exposing myself in front of him in my current state. Even though I'd put on a lot of the weight I'd lost and colour and life had returned to my skin, I was still covered in bruises and scars, and I still couldn't bare to see my body in such a condition. So how I could I let him see what I mess I was?

"Wrap up warm," he muttered as he walked away.

The cold air was like needles of ice piercing into my naked skin, reminding me of his deperating words as I dressed myself. I shoved on a thick blue jumper over my clothes, a loose black shirt with sleeves that cuffed my wrists, and plain blue jeans that were also a little too big, and as I left the room he was standing there, waiting for me. In addition to what he was wearing before, he now had on a heavy winter coat, and large lace up boots that almost reached his knees. His long hair fell over his shoulders, the rose coloured tips tinted with a slight purple in the pale morning light. His golden eyes were focused sharply on me, looking me up and down. I felt tense under that gaze, not sure if it was approving or not.

"You'll need these," he said after a moment, handing me a dark coat and a bright blue matching set of gloves, a scarf and a hat. I stared up at him as I took them, feeling a little bewildered. "What's going on? Why am I coming this time?" I asked. He always went alone, he had never taken me before, and suddenly I felt my stomach come alive with nervousness.

"I'll probably need your help," he answered. "Come on," he said, making his way to the front door.

"But why?" I asked, following after him. I felt like I was asking too many questions, that I was probably going to irritate him, but in my confusion I couldn't help it.

He stopped and turned to me, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before his gaze flickered to the ground. "You need to get out," he muttered.

"I guess that's true," I replied with a shaky chuckle, slipping into the coat and winter gear he'd given me. My ankle still ached a little, especially if I applied too much weight onto it or bent it certain ways, but I was able to walk without the assistance of my crutches now, although it helped to keep them around Mink pointed out, lifting them from where they sat on the floor by my bed.

As soon as we stepped outside, the ice cold air bit into my face, all the way down to the bone, and the view seemed to sweep the breathe from my lungs. Flakes of snow fell idly from the sky, gently swirling in a slight breeze, but all around us the ground was so soft and pure and white, and the trees were painted an icy silver, glimmering in the early morning sunlight that flickered through the gaps in glowing rays. I craned my neck up, catching a glimpse of the sky through the white branches that entwined above us like long, interlaced fingers. It was so clear and cold and blue, with a hint of violet, such a striking colour, yet somehow peaceful and calming, like it was seeping into me, making me feel new and fresh and clean. "It's so beautiful," I muttered absently, a flake of snow softly landing on my cheek.

Mink only grunted in response, and whether he agreed or not would probably forever remain a mystery. But in a way I liked that aspect of him. He didn't usually convey his thoughts and feelings of me or the world around him, either verbally or with body language. He was about as readable as a closed book whose pages had been glued together. But when he did open up, I felt like I was getting a rare glimpse into something dark and mysterious, something that only I could ever see, and it felt all the more special to me.

He trudged through the few inches of snow, leaving a trail behind him, which I followed with slow and careful steps, around to the back of the house. I was somewhat surprised to see a car parked there, a large black land rover, blanketed with ice, the wind shield frosted over. I'd never heard a car engine running before when he'd left. "I didn't know you had a car," I said as he scraped the ice from the front window.

"I prefer to walk," he answered. "But that's not easy on a day like this," he said with a sweeping gesture, a frown etched onto his face. "Fucking snow," he muttered under his breathe. I let slip a small giggle, amused by his frustrated cursing. He glared at me, and I shut up instantly. Then the hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Get in the damn car," he said with a slight shake of his head.

Twenty minutes later, we were pulling up outside a fairly large shop, that seemed to be situated in the center of the small town. It appeared to be a general grocery store, or perhaps miniature supermarket, I wasn't quite sure. "You coming in?" Mink asked me. I looked across the white parking lot, the snow littered with footsteps, toward the entrance. It wasn't busy, but there were still people scattered here and there. "Maybe not," I answered nervously. I could hear voices in the distance, just chatting, but the sound seemed to drill through me and make my stomach twist sickeningly with nerves. "Fine," he grumbled, getting out of the car. "I won't be long," he said as he slammed the door behind him. The loud bang made me jolt with fright, but he didn't seem to notice.

I sat alone for awhile, but I didn't at all feel lonely. Mink had asked me to join him. I wasn't really sure of the reasons why, but surely it meant he didn't hate having me around. And I was out and about for the first time in weeks, and for some reason it made me feel light and free. I know I'm not in any danger with Mink, that I'm not his prisoner, but deep down the fear of being trapped inside someone else's home was still rooted into my heart, sometimes making me feel as though the walls and ceiling were just another cage around me, like I'd never truly be free of the chains that bound me there. But the fact he'd taken me outside eased that fear, and just standing under the sky for a while helped me feel like I could breathe once more.

I stared out of the window for a bit, watching the world go by. The purple hue gradually fading from the blue sky as it lit up with the light of day, the trees swaying in the gentle breeze, branches sparkling with ice, a few early morning shoppers hurrying by, even a man walking a small, yapping dog. For a moment a memory sparked in me, more of the impression of a thought rather than something solid and opaque, and in my minds eye I envisioned large dark eyes and a fluffy wagging tail, but as soon as I tried to pull the image from my thoughts, it seemed to resist me and fade away, and it was gone as soon as it had come. I sighed with frustration, slumping my head forward in defeat. It was too early and I was too tired for this. My brain hadn't awoken properly yet.

When I raised my head again after a few moments, my neck aching slightly, I saw something so horribly familiar out of the corner of my eye that I had to bite back a scream that threatened to jump from my lips. Slowly I turned my head, dread creeping up my spine, and there he stood, blonde hair spiking up, slim glasses framing his cold blue eyes. Virus. I blinked slowly, hoping it was just my imagination, some image my mind had conjured up before me to frighten to the life out of me. But when my vision swam back and he was still there, I felt ice cold terror clench around my heart. He was stood at the other end of a parking lot, talking into a coil around his wrist, which luckily distracted his eyes from me. For now. I felt my stomach turn as though I'd eaten something sickeningly rotten, and my throat go dry like I'd swallowed sandpaper. I couldn't go back, they couldn't take me back. I'd die in there, I would die in that cold, dark house filled with nightmarish horrors. Suddenly my lungs felt constricted, as though a tight chord had been tangled around them, and my chest ached with a bitter pain, and I was struggling to breathe, to draw in any air. Tremors of fear ran through my body, and I needed to get outside, I needed to be under the sky and feel the cold air around me, in my mouth, my lungs.

Without thinking, I opened the car door, fumbling with the handle, and as soon as I was free I collapsed onto my knees, my trembling legs too weak to support my body. I felt bile rise in the back of my throat, sickly and burning, and tried to push it down and get onto my feet, but my legs felt numb and hollow and I couldn't move. Snow clung to the bottom of my jeans, and I knew I should feel the icy cold seeping through, but I felt nothing. My body was numb all over, and I shivered, my heart racing in my ears, pulsing through my head like a beating drum that drowned out everything else. The ground seemed to ripple and sway before me, like I was watching the world through water running in a river, and distantly I heard someone say my name.

I looked up to see Mink. I hadn't seen or heard him approaching, but he stood over me, his golden eyes meeting mine in a hazy blur. "What's wrong?" he asked, carefully pulling me to my feet. I tried to stand, but my legs were still too shaky to support me, and I fell forward into him, my head pushing against his chest. Hesitantly, he put his arms around me and pulled me closer toward him. "What's wrong?" he repeated, his voice coming out in a breathe against the top of my head. I could feel the warmth of his body, even through his coat, and his heart softly thumping beneath. It's steady rhythm seemed to relax me as it danced along with my own, and after a while I stopped shaking. "I saw him," I muttered, the memory sending a chill down my spine, making me feel nauseous

"Which one?" he growled. I felt his body tense up against me, the anger seeping into his voice. I shook my head, fighting back the tears that seemed to bite at the corners of my eyes. "I just want to go," I mumbled, taking a deep breathe.

"Get in the car," he said. I tried to stand on my own, but my legs were still shaking so much they had become useless, as though they were filled with water. He ended up having to help me into my seat, and then he loaded all his shopping bags into the back of the car while I waited, shivering and alone in the front. When he got into the drivers seat, his face was so tense it was like all the skin had been pulled back over his skull, and he gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were whitened. "Maybe you imagined him," he said quietly, his tone vaguely doubtful.

"So you think I'm seeing things? That I'm crazy?"

He shook his head and started the car. Of course he thought I was crazy. I told him I'd been kidnapped and tortured, that I'd heard a voice in my head, and he'd been woken by me screaming with terror from nightmares countless times. Maybe I was crazy. But I wasn't seeing things, I know Virus had been standing there. They had found me, tracked me to this little town, and soon they were going to get their claws back into me, take me back to that little house of horrors and play with me until I died. I felt bile creep up my throat, and my stomach churned. "I'm gonna be sick," I muttered. "Oh god, stop the car."

The very second the car skidded to a halt, I swung the door open and leaned my head out, the back of my throat burning as I heaved. There was nothing in my stomach, so only acid came up, and I spat it onto the ground. I felt Mink's hand on my back. "Are you done?" he asked.

"I think so," I replied, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. My face was now wet with tears, and I closed my eyes, leaning back in the seat as I took a deep, trembling breathe. "I'm done," I muttered, feeling emotionally and psychically drained. I just wanted to curl up somewhere warm and safe, and forget about everything for a while. But nowhere was safe, and the memories I'd rather forget were forever burned into the back of my mind, branded into my heart right now. Although the fear they left me with was always there, lately it seemed more distant, like it was slowly slipping away. But now it was back, and it was real, and soon I'd have nowhere to run.

"You won't let them get me, will you?" I asked Mink.

"I'll kill them if I have to," he replied, his face darkening with a look that said he would.


	7. Like a Dream

As soon as we returned to Mink's secluded cabin, he helped me back into the house, where I sat on the sofa, trembling and trying to hold back the sobs that crawled up my throat. I was scared, for many reasons. If my eyes hadn't deceived me, then it meant Virus and Trip had somehow tracked me down. And if I'd imagined him standing there, it meant I was starting to see things, that I couldn't tell the difference between reality and fantasy anymore. How long before I descended into the shadowy bog of complete madness? What if it was already swallowing me?

And I was also afraid for Mink. His face when he'd said he would kill Virus and Trip was carved into the backs of my eyelids whenever I closed my eyes. Something dark and terrifying had come over him, the air around him seemed to go cold and still like time had suddenly froze, the world coming to a standstill. And he'd said those words so casually, like it was as easy as deciding what to have for dinner, with eyes full of resolve, almost glowing like the gleam of a wolf's beneath the silvery light of the moon. It frightened me to the core, made something raw and freezing trace its way down my spine, a heaviness settle in my stomach like putrid, stagnant water. It made me ask a question for which I was too afraid to hear an answer. Had he killed someone before?

Of course I wanted them dead. For what they had done to me, and because I knew it was the only way to make them stop looking for me. Otherwise they'd never stop chasing me, and I'd have to live the rest of my life on the run, always looking over my shoulder, always living in fear of being caught. But Mink shouldn't have to kill them for me, he shouldn't have to fight my battles. He already seemed like he was carrying a lot on his shoulders. There was a heavy air hanging over him constantly, something dark like a black cloud crawling over the horizon, a horrid bruise in the sky. Something that seemed to weigh him down, chains bound around his body, an anchor tied to his heart that pulled him into the darkest depths of a world only he could see. He was drowning in his past while trying to stay afloat in the present. I don't know where I'd gotten that impression, but at some point during my time with him I'd felt it, like a fingerprint on my skin, a soft whisper in the back of my mind. I couldn't make things harder for him than they already were, could I?

So I sat on the sofa, watching the flames across from me dance in the fireplace, and I thought about everything, over and over, round and round until my mind was racing and dizzying and confused, and I could no longer make sense of what was right anymore. Mink was silent for the rest of the morning, spending his time locked away in his bedroom, only coming out to offer me lunch at around midday. We ate together in silence, too. It was uncomfortable, it made the bottom of my stomach burn with nerves, and my heart clench up like it was being crushed. I thought maybe I was finally getting closer to him, breaking down that wall of ice he seemed to wear like a shield. But now the space between us was larger than ever, and he was so distant that I felt I would never touch him again.

After eating I decided to run a bath. I felt dirty anyway, like mud was clinging to my skin, something dark and impure had rooted itself inside me. The reminder of Virus and Trip had momentarily sent my mind reeling back earlier, to a place where I was with them, a place I was no longer safe. I could have sworn every inch of my skin they had ever touched still burned, that I could still feel their hands on my body and their lips on my flesh. I needed to wash it all away, to scrub and scrub and scrub away at it until I could no longer feel anything. So that's what I did in the bath, until every inch of my body was rubbed raw, my skin aching and red, my arms sore from exerting them. But I still didn't feel clean of their touch, even after all that. They had engraved themselves inside me, burned their presence into my body and mind. No amount of hot water and soap bubbles and endless scrubbing could ever wash that away.

I closed my eyes, leaning back against the tub, my brows furrowed as a drained sigh escaped my lips. I felt tired in more ways than one. It was as though all the gears in my head had stopped turning, my numb mind unable to think or focus anymore as the shock of everything sunk in. And my body felt as though it had been hollowed out, cut and carved and drained of life and energy. I felt my eyes close before I could stop them, and just for a brief moment I was shifting on the edge of sleep, my mind in that strange between world where reality turned into an abstract painting of words and colours and shapes that made no sense, yet made perfect sense.

I jolted, the bath water rippling around my body, when the sound of a laughing voice seemed to echo through my head. A sharp pain tore through my skull like the edge of a blade, and I winced, red streaks dancing across my vision. Through the haze of steam I could see a bloody, distorted reflection of myself, like a ghost dancing in the mist. He stared back at me with wide and unforgiving eyes, merciless bright yellow like torches in the dark. I closed my eyes tightly for a few seconds, a burst of red flickering behind my eyelids, and when I opened them again he was gone and the room was empty once more. I inhaled deeply, wiping my face with my soaking hands, the water warm and slick against my skin. I could feel the droplets running down my cheeks when I got out of the bath and quickly dried myself off with a towel, slipping into the clothes Mink had brought me. As usual they were over sized, the pant legs too long, the shirt hanging off of my slender frame, but by now I was used to it. It was comfortable, it hid my body away under the excessive folds of material, making me feel concealed and safe.

I felt nervous, my skin prickling with panic, and I just wanted to get away. As soon as I left the bathroom, a cold chill seemed to swipe through my bones, the muggy heat of the small room fading away behind me. I darted into my room and shoved on the jumper I had been wearing earlier, the thick woolly material heating me up slightly, chasing away some of the ice on my skin. Then I settled back in front of the fire place, and the flickering flames instantly banished the biting chill from my body. Mink was nowhere to be seen, I assumed he'd probably gone back to his room, locked himself away from me once more. I sat there for a while, watching the flames jump around in the grate, the wood below charred and blackened, the smoke and embers rising up in gold and grey coils. The only thing I could hear was harsh crackle of the fire, the rhythmical ticking of the clock, the occasional gust of wind sweeping through the tree tops outside. I felt suddenly isolated, a lonely feeling seeping into my gut like ice water. It wasn't just that slight feeling, like missing the warmth of human interaction. It was painful, like some great hand had torn me open and emptied out my insides until I was nothing but a hollow shell. It made me feel as though I was the last living thing in the world, screaming out into a darkness that swallowed my voice.

I needed to see Mink. I needed to be close to him, to have him hold me and touch me like he did before. Those thoughts poured into my mind at an alarming rate. I knew I should have been afraid of that feeling, but instead I let it embrace me, because the idea felt warmer and safer than the cold emptiness of solitude. It made sense to feel this way, to seek warmth in his arms, because we'd been together that way before. And if I let him embrace me again, maybe it would erase Virus and Trip's foul touch from my skin, overwrite the awful memories that seemed to be burned into the back of my mind. I felt protected, secure in his arms. I wanted to feel that way forever.

With resolve I stood up and made my way toward his bedroom door. At the sudden realisation I'd never even seen the inside of Mink's bedroom before, my heart seemed to bloom into life like a flower blossoming in my chest, and with my hand curled into a trembling fist, I knocked lightly on the door. From the other side I heard the signs of life stirring, a bed creaking, a gruff sigh, foot steps getting closer to where I stood. I fought the urge to back away, a moment of hesitation sweeping through me. What if he didn't want to see me? What if he hated me now? He must think I'm insane because of everything that had happened this morning. The doubts slowly began to build, like monsters bubbling up in my head. I tried my best to shake them off, to push them down to the back of my mind. I couldn't turn back now.

"What?" he asked as he swung the door open, his eyes narrowing on me. I was silent for a moment, trying to arrange my jumbled thoughts together before I spoke. "I...can I come in?" I lowered my head nervously as I spoke, afraid to meet his eyes.

"Why?" he replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"It's just I've never been in here before...and I wanted to see you," I muttered, feeling the heat of embarrassment prick at my cheeks.

"You see me all the time," he replied, his dubious gaze burrowing into me. I hated the way he did that sometimes, taking my words and throwing them back in my face like I'm an idiot. He knew exactly what I meant by that yet he still chose some smart ass retort, to act clueless.

"It's not the same!" I felt a sudden wave of emotions tear through me, and without meaning to I raised my voice. "You've been avoiding me all day, it's so lonely here, and I'm so scared..." _that you hate me_ I wanted to say, but I knew the words wouldn't leave my lips before I started sobbing and I was already aware of how pathetic my voice sounded. I heard Mink let out a heavy sigh, and a large hand gently brushed against my shoulder. "Come," he said quietly, leading me into his bedroom. "Sit," he gestured toward the bed in a stiff motion. The bed springs groaned as he sat himself down next to me, hesitantly resting a hand on my leg. He shook his head slightly, and I could tell he was just as confused as me when our eyes met, his gaze faltering like a flickering light. "It's not your fault" he said, blinking slowly.

"Why not just talk to me about it?" I asked, "instead of pushing me away?"

"It's complicated," he answered.

"I'm sick of hearing that. I opened up to you about everything. So why can't you just explain this one thing to me?" I demanded, feeling a little enraged. It wasn't fair that every time he pushed me away I was the one that ended up feeling awful, blaming myself and convincing myself that it was because of how fucked up I was. I wanted to yell all that, scream it into his face. But I could tell he was struggling a lot to with his own personal demons, and I knew the entire situation between us wasn't easy on him either. I'd practically come back from the dead in his eyes, with no memory of our past together and a thousand monsters living inside my head. It was a complicated mess and we were both tangled in it together. I just wanted to know if we would ever find our way out, even if we just stumbled along together, lost and blind as ever. There was so many questions, so much pain and fear and anxiety. But there was also something more, something pure and bright and warm between us, we just had to somehow grasp it, make sense of it.

"I shouldn't be with you," he said quietly, his voice edged with dread.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Those words stung more than I expected, making my heart sink like a stone cast to the bottom of a lake.

"They've already hurt you so much, and I'm just as bad as them," he spat, his hand recoiling from its position on my leg. "I hurt you in the past. A lot."

"And you're scared of hurting me again? Scared those memories will be painful?" I asked, a little taken aback by the gravity of his tone. This was the most he'd ever opened up to me, and I finally felt like we were getting somewhere, like I was beginning to chip away at the stone case he'd built around his heart and get a small glimpse of the real Mink that lived beneath. "There's nothing you could do to hurt me that they've not already done a thousand times," I tried to reassure him. I couldn't imagine what sort of past I had, what the time I'd spent with Mink was like, what sort of person I was or what sort of life I'd led. But I knew Mink, I knew whatever he had done to me could never be as bad as what I'd been through the past year. He wasn't perfect, he was sort of intimidating sometimes, he could be cold and distant, and it was usually impossible to tell what was going on inside his head because his face often betrayed his true thoughts. But despite his flaws, he wasn't a cruel man. Not in the way Virus and Trip were.

"You would hate me as soon as you remembered me," he said.

"Well I don't hate you now," I protested, "I'm happy with you now," and for once I was the one that reached for him, that pulled him into a kiss. He seemed a little surprised for a second or two, but then our lips melded together and his arms laced around me and he pulled me so close I felt the warmth of our bodies become one. "I have no right," he muttered, pulling his lips from mine. "To be with you," his breathe was hot against my face, it sent shivers racing down my spine.

"You do," I replied softly. "You've given me comfort, safety. Hope that I can get better, a life that isn't all misery and pain," I said, drawing him back into the kiss, my lip urgently seeking his. I had no idea where I'd gained this sudden confidence from, where this feeling had bubbled up from inside me, but as soon as I felt it flare within me I knew I had to do this, take advantage of this moment and be honest with him, with myself. "The past, the future," I said, my voice catching as his lips moved down to my throat. "I-it doesn't matter. I want you right now, in this moment. The present," I wrapped my arms tightly around him, twisting my fingers into his hair. "I want you," I repeated, kissing him once more, parting my lips and inviting his tongue into my mouth.

"Aoba," he gasped my name breathlessly. "If you say that I won't be able to hold back,"

"Don't," I sighed against him, before his lips stole mine in another attack of frenzied kisses, and he pushed me back down against the bed so he was leaning over me, my head sinking into the softness of the pillows. He stopped himself for a moment, looking down at me with steady eyes, analyzing me closely. "You're sure?" he asked. I nodded, feeling determined to see this through. If it was anyone else I would have frozen up in terror the moment their hands came near me, but with Mink it was different. I trusted his hands on my body, I felt safe and secure in his arms.

I closed my eyes to the sensation of his lips pressed against my neck, hot flares like fire against my skin, his hands slipping beneath my top and trailing up my bare skin. A jolt ran through my body when his finger brushed my nipple, my nerves set alight. His large hands were hot, they seemed melt into my skin and right down to my bones, and every touch sent another bolt of electricity racing through my body. He pulled at my jumper, and then my shirt, and with his help I tugged them over my head. He removed his shirt too, pulling it off in one swift motion, revealing himself to me like this for the first time. I felt my eyes widen in awe, a small gasp drawing itself from my open mouth. I knew he was a well built guy, but I didn't expect so much muscle to be hidden beneath his clothes. He was probably more than twice my sizes, his dark skin, now gleaming with sweat, beautifully stretched over the curves of his muscular frame, his large chest rippling as he breathed heavily.

When his eyes traced my naked upper body, I suddenly felt so small and shy under his gaze, intimidated by his superiority. Unable to look him in the eyes, I tried to squirm away, suddenly wanting to hide myself. I was extremely aware of all the flaws of my wretched body now, almost as though I could feel them bore into me. The countless scars that spoiled my once flawless skin, my thin and scrawny frame, nothing but bones really. How even my face had changed into something worn and ugly, my cheeks hollow, dark circles bruising my eyes. "Ugly, aren't I?" I said quietly, a bitter smile tugging at my lips, my muscles going tense. I could feel the backs of my eyes burn at the thought of him hating the way I looked, despising my own body as much as I did. How could I expect him to love what he saw before him when even I couldn't? What was I thinking, putting myself on display to him like this? I closed my eyes, turning my head away as though I could somehow hide from his gaze.

Mink didn't answer at first, he just held me in place, leaning down and kissing my cheek gently, as though to fill me with reassurance. His lips felt softer than before, and his hands stroked my sides with care, as though he was handling a delicate flower, something that would be crushed if squeezed too tightly. "Look at me, Aoba," he said, his fingers lightly tracing the map of light silvery scars etched into my skin. When I finally found the courage to open my eyes, I was completely taken aback by the look on his face. He wasn't staring at me with disgust like I feared. He looked at me as though my skin was made of stars in the night sky, something shining and beautiful. His lips moved to my cheeks, my nose, my forehead. I blinked when they touched my face, flinching slightly.

"You're perfect," he whispered into my ear, and suddenly nothing else mattered anymore, as though all my dark thoughts had been blown from my mind. My scars no longer seemed like imperfections upon my skin, my body no longer felt thin and withered like a dying reed, and my face no longer felt sunken and hollow and unsightly. I was perfect. The way his eyes enveloped every inch of me proved it. No one could look at something they found disgusting with such a longing gaze, with eyes alive with passion and desire, with a face set in such an expression of awe.

I didn't know how to respond to that, my brain struggled to find the words to say. I opened my mouth to speak, but my words faltered before they could come out and instead I only made a strange choked noise, so I quickly snapped it shut, blood rushing to my face. A small smile pulled at his lips, and he bent down to kiss me once more, his lips gently pressing against my forehead. "You're perfect," he repeated, his voice a low and seductive rumble, sending an intense shiver down my spine.

His hands gradually lowered, snaking down and stroking my hips and outer thighs before dipping between my legs, feeling me through the material of my pants. I felt myself heat up down there instantly, a sharp gasp tearing from me before I could stop it. A smirk played on his lips, and he brought his mouth down to my neck, sucking at my Adams apple, the hollow of my throat, my collarbone, while his hand slipped into my underwear, clasping around my length. A shudder ran through my body, a spark of heat between my legs, and I gasped slightly, my mind going blank as he began to stroke me. Without thinking I curled my hands into the hair behind his head, trembling as I let out small moans of pleasure. He brought his lips down onto mine, swallowing up the sounds that tore from my throat.

"Mink..." I gasped his name breathlessly against his lips, my back arching slightly as his thumb circled the tip of my cock. A sweet numbness shot through my whole body, making my skin tingle as though it was alive. He began slowly pulling my pants and underwear down, over my hips, and I kicked them off feeling impatient. A heat had settled in my stomach, a sweetness between my legs. It felt like charged energy trapped inside my body, a storm beneath my skin, and I was desperate to set it free. "Do me..." I said in a quiet voice, my hands still clinging to the back of his head. His eyes met mine, golden gaze alive and burning with lust. But there was also a flicker of hesitation, a doubt that crossed his features. I could see the question in his eyes, hear it in the racing of his heart and the unsteadiness of his breathing. I wanted him to know that I wasn't the mess Virus and Trip had left me as, that I wasn't afraid of being connected to him like this, that I trusted him enough to hand my body over to him. Maybe I loved him, even though I couldn't remember why, but the feelings were still there, laying dormant in the back of my mind, like flowers waiting to blossom in spring, a warmth in my heart that I couldn't quite explain. And just from that I knew I wanted this, that it was right.

I nodded firmly as though to reassure him, hoping my feelings would be conveyed when my determined gaze met his.

A finger probed around my ass hole before slowly slipping in, and a shudder went through my body. It was already slick and wet from whatever bodily fluids had leaked from my erection, it went in easily, but it still stung a little. I parted my legs more, bucking my hips as he began fingering me with one hand as the other went back to stroking my cock. I loosened up quickly, able to relax in his hold, find joy in his touch. Soon I felt as though my lower body was slowly melting away, the pain slowly giving away into pure pleasure. I couldn't suppress my surprised gasp when he withdrew his fingers and grabbed my hips, suddenly sliding his dick into me, the hot, hard mass slowly inching further inside and tearing me open. There wasn't an unbearable amount of pain, just a dull aching pressure that made me inhale sharply as he rubbed along my inner walls. I could feel it, warm and hard, pushing in further and further, impossibly deep. My fingers curled into his hair, and I gasped his name, pulling his head down into a desperately frantic kiss, my teeth pulling at his tongue as it entwined with my own, him biting into my bottom lip, tugging at it lightly, almost playfully as he began rocking his hips into me. Whatever sense I had managed to retain up until then disappeared in an instant. A wave of pleasure shot through me, my mind and body set alight. I moaned loudly, too lost in bliss to feel embarrassed by my voice.

I hadn't felt pleasure like this in a long time. Pleasure from a consensual lover, from someone who doesn't want to do me any harm. I could feel it in the way he handled me, his hands careful, delicate, his thrusts controlled, not too gentle but not too rough, his focus on me, always paying attention to my every little reaction. There was no cruel toys or tricks, no torture to cause me terror and agony, no blades to slice my skin in some brutal experiment, no humiliation to make me feel ashamed of myself. It was just me and Mink, connected as one, our bodies and breathe mingled, our racing hearts dancing together, the heat of our skin pressed so tightly as we held on to one and other so close it felt as though we were melting into a hot mess of tangled limbs and ragged moans.

The pleasure built up swiftly, intensely, a tingling settling on my skin from head to toe as the sweetness swelled between my hips. It was like fiery waves surging through my body, each one crashing upon my nerves with more force than the last. My body had been moving on its own without me even realising, bucking into him in desperate pursuit for more of this feeling. It was so sharp and fierce that it was almost painful, like something beneath the surface was desperate to erupt. I felt myself being pushed closer and closer to the brink of climax, my mind no longer able to think of anything but the white hot bliss. Mink's voice came out in small rough gasps, his breathe brushing against my ear, just adding to the fire inside me.

"Ahh, Mink!" the cry escaped from my lips as I was pushed over the edge. I came quickly, my trembling body dripping with sweat, my breathing chaotic as I struggled to draw in some air. A few moments later, with a suppressed gasp and a couple more swift thrusts that seemed to rock my entire body, Mink released inside me, shuddering and gasping before pulling out, his cum spilling out of my ass and between my legs in a warm stream. I felt as though I was floating in the sweet bliss of the afterglow, my mind so scattered and unfocused I barely even registered Mink wiping me down with a cloth and then wrapping his arms around me. He pulled me close in a gentle embrace, my face pressed against his chest.

It was only when his fingers began carefully stroking my hair that I felt some of my sense return through the haze of sleepy numbness. I flinched a little at the sensation, an odd tingle running from the tips of my hair to my scalp. It wasn't unpleasant though, in fact it felt nice, soft and sweet like a gentle caress should be. "Should I stop?" he asked quietly, his hand going still.

"No," I replied with a small yawn, a wave of tiredness sweeping over me. I curled into him, drifting off to sleep to the sound of his soft breathing, the heat of his skin against mine, the rhythmic stroking of his fingers through my sweaty hair. "I missed you," he muttered quietly, kissing the top of my head. It was the last thing I registered in my exhausted state before the world of dreams swallowed me.


	8. Confusion and Conflict

_I was lying with my cheek against the cold hard floor, my body trembling and sore all over, my eyes covered with some dark material, tied a little too tightly around my head so it just slightly hurt. I didn't know where I was, I couldn't see a thing, but I could feel another presence there with me, the air shifting, footsteps growing closer. Terror siezed my heart, my nerves jolting into life as though plucked by cold fingers. I wanted to get up and run, but I couldn't move. It was as though my body was chained in place, my muscles frozen. I tried to cry out for help, but my voice was swallowed up into silence, unable to escape past my quivering lips. I felt a hand roughly grab me, and reflexively closed my eyes, letting out a soft, choking whimper. "Don't touch me," I tried to say, but my voice came out a whisper, my throat stinging as though I'd swallowed shards of glass. Those unknown hands trailed up my bare chest, and I realised I was naked, exposed before the stranger. I shivered at the touch, wanting to curl in on myself and hide away, but still I could not move no matter how hard I tried._ _It was like pulling against an invisible tide, too powerful to resist in the slightest._

 _I felt something warm and wet against my chest, the roughness of desperate lips, the ravage of a hungry tongue, and despite the fear, I also felt a tingling shoot over my skin, a sharp flare in my groin. "N-no...!" I gasped. I didn't want this. I didn't want to be touched, and I didn't want that touch to arouse me. I felt that tongue slide over one of my nipples, flicking and licking and teasing it, making a hot sweetness shiver through my body "A-ah, wait..." the words came out in a breathy gasp, my voice catching. A mouth clamped over the protrusion on my peaked chest, teeth sinking in and tugging gently. "Fuck..." I groaned softly, the jolt of pleasure and pain adding intensely to my excitement. As those lips continued teasing me, I let out small moans unintentionally, my dick hardening between my legs. That mouth moved up to my neck, pressing against the hollow of my throat. "N-n..." I tried to protest, but I just didn't have the will anymore. After all, wasn't it best to just lie back and let it happen?_

 _Then I felt fingers trace my throat. At first it was a light, caressing touch, as though they were admiring the feel of a soft fabric, but soon it became hard and pressing, painfully rough on the tender skin of my neck. I felt those fingers clamp around my throat, pushing down with force. It wasn't in a fun, sexual manner. It was with the intent to kill._ _My airway was immediately shut off, and the crushing pain set in along blind panic. I tried to cry out, but I couldn't. I tried to move, to push those hands away, but my body refused to, as though it had turned to stone. A coldness began to set into my limbs, a numbness in my mind, a dimness on the edges of my vision. 'I'm going to die,' I thought. 'I'm going to die here,'_

 _The blind fold slid slightly from my face, one eye just able to peek over the top of the material, and just before everything faded into black I caught the tiniest glimpse of my assailant. Cold blue eyes like a clear winter sky, tanned skin, long brown hair pulled into thick dreads that brushed against my face. "Mink?" I tried to say, but only saliva came from my mouth, dribbling from my lips as I choked to death by his hand._

 _A world of darkness in which I was drowning. It coiled down my throat like smoke, seeping into my lungs. I tried to take a breathe, only to have my chest tighten abruptly, my lungs aching as I gagged and coughed. Just when I thought I'd pass out, there was a bright light, the glare hurting my eyes, and I could breathe once more. I gratefully drew air deep into my lungs, my throat opening, the tightness in my chest releasing._

 _"He killed you," a voice said from behind me. A familiar voice, one that I'd heard before. He sounded like me, only colder and crueller, as though he had never felt joy or love. Only pain and anger. "You're dead, fool," He gloated as I turned to face him. He stood before me, naked, a replica of myself, like staring at my reflection in a mirror. The same pale face, scrawny body, messy blue hair. Only his eyes were different. They glowed golden, but it wasn't warm and welcoming like sunlight. It was wild and destructive like a raging fire. He grinned at me, thin lips curling up sharply. "We're dead, Aoba. Oh such joy, such pain in our final moments!" his eyes lit up now, something primal burning in his gaze._

 _"Who are you!?" I demanded. But before I could get an answer, he was gone. Like an illusion shattering, one moment he stood before me, the next there was nothing._

I jolted awake, the memory of that burning gaze still imprinted in the front of my mind, even when I closed my eyes once more and tried to shake it off. I could feel my heart hammering wildly against my rib cage, like a monster trying to free itself. Cold shivers ran up and down my entire body, and my throat felt sore and tight, my mouth parched. For a moment I had completely forgotten that I was laying in Mink's bed, and was surprised to feel his arms around me, his breathe softly caressing the back of my neck. It was boiling hot with him stuck to me beneath the bed covers like this, but somewhat comforting too, chasing away the terror in which I had awoken. I was safe with him in his arms, he would protect me.

I lay half asleep in ignorant bliss, wondering why I had been so afraid. And then gradually, the memories of my strange dream began to swirl back to the front of my mind. As I began to recall what had happened, my stomach felt heavy, and my heart began to race once more. I dreamt he had killed me, that he had strangled me to death. The feeling of his fingers around my neck was still burned into my mind, it had felt so raw and real. I heard him shift behind me, and my entire body instantly jerked away from him, almost crashing over the edge of the bed.

"Aoba?" he mumbled my name in sleepy bewilderment, reaching for me to draw me back toward him. "What's wrong?"

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to think, to make sense of what had happened. It wasn't real, it probably wasn't even based off of reality. I'd slept with him last night, so maybe my mind was confusing my memories of him and the other two, mashing them all up together in one confused heap. But it had felt so real, as though I had been thrown back in time to that day, reliving those horrific events. Why would I have that feeling over something that didn't happen?

"Bad dream," I muttered after a long, hesitant pause. What else was I supposed to say? 'I dreamt you forced yourself on me and strangled me to death, real or not real?'

Well obviously not the death part because I was still alive and breathing, but everything else. A range of conflicting emotions washed through me, and I just wanted to get away from him for a while. "I'm going to get a glass of water," I said, pushing the covers from my body and dragging myself out of the bed. I had forgotten I was completely naked, and the cold night air seemed to jab into my vulnerable skin like needles of ice. I shivered, grabbing my jumper from the floor and throwing it over myself. It barely covered my thighs though, and everything below was still pretty cold. From the corner of my eye I could see Mink watching me, his approving gaze eyeing me up and down, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a small smile. Something about the visual of me in nothing but an oversized sweater must have made him very delighted.

I slowly made my way to the kitchen, feeling my way around blindly in the dark, grateful this place had only one floor, because I did not feel like falling down any staircase and doing more damage to my already weak ankle. It had almost healed, I could walk completely unassisted. But it was still tender, sensitive to pain and could probably break again easily. When I finally made it to the kitchen, I flicked the light switch, the room flooding with a dull yellow glow, and grabbed a small glass from the cupboard. My lips were extremely dry, my throat unbearably parched, and I filled the glass with tap water, gulping it down quickly and pouring a second. But before I could take another sip, I suddenly felt my legs give way beneath me. It was an odd feeling, I just slid to the ground slowly, all the strength from me suddenly venishing as though swept by some gust of wind. Was it because I was exhausted from earlier? Or something else? A dizziness rushed through my body, and I felt the warmth of tears spill down my face, not even sure why I was crying at first.

But then an overwhelming sorrow hit me, like a wave from a deadly ocean. I couldn't explain the feeling, it made little sense, but it made perfect sense at the same time. The idea that Mink had hurt me in the past finally hit me, the realisation crashing into me full force like a blow to the chest. I felt as though shards of glass had been pressed into my heart, that all my insides had been torn up and shredded into tiny pieces. I shivered on the floor, wrapping my arms around myself as though it could somehow stop me from falling apart. I was just like that broken reflection in my dreams, I could feel myself fall away and shatter into nothing. If he had hurt me like that too, the one person in the world who I thought would never harm me, never lie to me, then I truly had nothing left. No hope, no reason to even carry on.

I wanted to believe it was just a dream, that I was jumping to conclusions and being paranoid. But I had this strange feeling I couldn't explain, an odd intense pressure in my gut telling me otherwise. Telling me that there may have been some truth to that strange little story in my head. And now I didn't know what to do. He could be a danger to me, he could hurt me again. But what reason would he have? He had invested so much time and effort into me, he had basically nursed me back into health, fed me, clothed me, looked after me the way a parent might look after a helpless child. And he had showed me such kindness and affection too, in his own way. I couldn't fathom a reason he'd want to cause me harm, such an idea was an alien concept to me.

I didn't have any context for what had happened, I could have misinterpreted the whole situation. Maybe I enjoyed stuff like that, maybe it was just part of our sex life anyway. It made me feel perverted to think I had masochistic tendencies, but it wasn't like I knew for sure I didn't. And after the Hell Virus and Trip put me through, of course I hadn't even thought of stuff like that. I hadn't even planned to have sex with Mink, either, but it was like something awoken within me and I just got carried away in the heat of the moment. Maybe in the past I had just been wild and crazy when it came to matters of intimacy.

But I couldn't shake what he'd told me before. 'They've already hurt you so much, and I'm just as bad as them' I thought it meant he'd broken my heart, but now I was sure it was something much worse. He knew what they had done to me, how they'd destroyed everything I was and used me as an object. I'd become a puppet, their hands holding the strings, my body used solely for whatever they wanted. It was a nightmare, a fate worse than death. I couldn't imagine Mink ever hurting me in such a vile way. Had he beat me? Raped me? Even tried to kill me? I shook my head unconsciously, unable to conceive him doing such a thing. It was impossible. Completely absurd. All this worry over a dream was ridiculous. I'd ask him about it, and let him explain his side of the story.

I sighed, pushing myself to my feet. My body was trembling and weak, my legs barely able to support my full body weight without feeling as though they'd snap, so I had to lean forward on the counter, my arms crossed over the top. "Aoba?" a deep voice said my name and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Mink, his head peeking through the kitchen door, his eyes regarding me with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, entering the room. I instinctively backed away from him, a little jolt of fear shooting through me at the idea of facing him. A deep frown crossed his features. "What's wrong?"

I took a deep breathe, trying to still my trembling nerves. I wanted to open up about everything, to tell him about my dream and ask him what was really going on. But instead my throat closed up and I found myself unable to speak. I shook my head, the motion making me dizzy, a numb haze swirling through my mind. "It's nothing," I said quietly, my voice barely audible, even in the still silence of the night.

"You've been crying," he observed, stepping forward into the glow of the kitchen light. His features seemed so soft, the warm light wearing down his usual harshness, making him seem less imposing and more gentle than normal. Maybe it was because he was worried about me, or maybe it was because he was tired, but the look in his eyes made me decide right then and there that he would never hurt me. Even if he had in the past, he wouldn't now. I was safe here.

"I'm fine," I replied, a small smile pulling at my lips, a warmth rushing to my cheeks.

"Will you come back to bed?" he asked, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Of course," I said. "There's nowhere I'd rather be," I meant it with all my heart. There's no one I'd rather sleep next to at night, no one's arms I'd rather be held in but Mink's. Everything else would come back to me, the truth would become clear, but for now all I needed to do was put my faith in the man who stood before me, gazing at me with thoughtful eyes from the other side of the room.

"What was your nightmare about?" he asked as we crawled back into bed together, his arms wrapping around me from behind and pulling me close. He buried his face into the back of my neck, his lips gently touching my nape. "I don't really remember," I answered. "Probably those two,"

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly into the back of my head, his arms tightening around my waist. "About taking you outside. And about...last night,"

I chuckled softly in response, "It's not your fault," I said. I put my arms over his, resting one of my small hands over his, soon his large warm fingers intertwining with my own. For the second time, I found myself falling asleep in his embrace. This time I hoped there wouldn't be any more nightmares.


End file.
